Until Forever Ends
by OliveBranchStories
Summary: Merlin's magic is revealed and he is not forgiven, but he doesn't leave. He tells himself he will protect himself and Camelot and Arthur and show everyone that he is not evil, even if it takes forever. But whilst Uther cannot get close enough to kill Merlin he knows someone who can. COMPLETED.
1. Chapter 1: Forever

**I started this story ages ago and forgot about it, but I came back to it and realised it would be a shame for it to be wasted, languishing in the depths of my computer. I thought I may as well upload it and in the process hopefully get back into the swing of it so I can finish it. **

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**CHAPTER 1.**

"**Forever"**

**::Merlin::**

Merlin slammed open the twin doors at the end of the hall quite dramatically and, in a moment of distraction, was thankful that they didn't swing back and whack him in the face. But what they revealed drove such triviality from his mind. The King was hunched on his throne and Merlin could feel the magic holding him from the other end of the hall. The knights were writhing in suits of armour that refused to move, and Prince Arthur was on his knees before Mordred.

Arthur had once helped save Mordred from execution by fire, a sorcerer's punishment in a land where King Uther ruled, but apparently Mordred had forgotten or discarded this memory. (Or maybe was remembering it with vindictive, if misplaced, pleasure.)

Held down on his knees Arthur was still almost as tall as the boy but Mordred's magic towered over both of them and filled the room with fury and cruelty. Swords couldn't be held against it; trying to stop magic with a sword was like hoping to stop a river with a stick… hoping to stop a river with a stick without the river noticing.

Because Uther had decreed magic as illegal and tortured and executed every person to the last child even only vaguely associated with it there was no magical defense for Camelot. Any peaceful person who didn't mean Camelot harm, and may have even risen to save it given the need, had fled during the Purge, the genocide, so the only people left willing to use magic in Camelot were those using magic _against _Camelot. This, of course, only gave evidence to Uther's proclamations that magic was evil. The citizens of Camelot could have used logic to put together Uther's murderous rampages and the presence of only revenge-seeking sorcerers in the midst, but they were too busy being terrified of being mistakenly accused of magic, where an accusation may as well be an order of execution, to question him.

Because of all of these reasons Merlin desperate to get to Arthur. He'd heard of the magical assault, he knew the Prince was both a target and, despite whatever Arthur said to the contrary, could not defend himself against it. The Prince had no chance against the likes of Mordred, no chance except Merlin. Because Merlin was magic and the only sorcerer interested in peace who was willing to fight for it; and he'd fight to the death for peace.

As the Prince's manservant he had the chance to see Arthur's honour and kindness up close. He had realized that Arthur, unlike Uther, could one day grow to understand magic wasn't evil…if he lived long enough. This was where Merlin came in. Keeping his magic secret, because defending one's Prince, Employer and Best Friend was hard enough _with _his head attached to his body, Merlin had spent years at Arthur's side, acting the fool but being the hero. The day he openly saved Arthur, the day he knew would come (just not so soon, he still had so much left to do) was also the day when life as he knew it would be over.

And it seemed that this day had come.

Upon his rather dramatic entry Merlin caught many of the room's occupant's mid-yell. Arthur was yelling, 'Leave my father alone!' and Uther was yelling 'Leave my son alone!' Mordred was hissing under or maybe over it all, 'I'm going to kill the both of you, Pendragons' with a voice like murder.

Merlin had been doing his usual scrabble for words, but when Mordred took a step towards Arthur he instinctively snarled,

"Don't you touch him, Mordred!"

His chest was heaving from his sudden sprint to the throne room, but his voice came out strong and sharp, like a sword and a snapping bowstring. Like a sword it cut through the air, like an arrow it shot across the room.

Mordred turned, head not held confrontationally high but predatorily low, his expression an animal.

"The man of the hour…Emrys," he said softly to Merlin and himself. His voice was so low Merlin couldn't hear it but the words resonated through his viscous magic and Merlin felt them in his bones, which shuddered.

"Merlin, you moron, get out of here!" Arthur yelled, clenching his fists and struggling with all his might to stand, unsuccessfully. Without looking away from Merlin, Mordred flicked a hand and an invisible force closed Arthur's mouth and held his tongue. Merlin moved forwards; his magic snarling like his voice and Mordred's eyes flicked around the room briefly as he felt it pour along the walls.

"Leave, Mordred," Merlin growled, his hands arching into casting positions.

"You're going to have to _make _me, Emrys."

Mordred watched Merlin striding forwards for a moment; one corner of his mouth smiled. Spinning fluidly on one foot, conjuring and drawing a knife out of the air beside him, Mordred planted his feet beside Arthur and held the blade to the Prince's throat.

Merlin stopped dead.

Arthur tried to arch his head away from the blade but Mordred's magic caught him and held him down onto it.

"Now what are you going to do?" Mordred asked softly. Merlin's hands trembled slightly.

"Leave them be, Mordred," he said quietly.

"Like he left us be?" Mordred jerked his head in Uther's direction, the movement echoing through his body to his hand which drew a small red dot on Arthur's neck.

"Don't hurt him!" Merlin's voice rose. He was trying to sound determined but there was blood on Arthur's throat and in a moment of madness (or even just mild irritation) on Mordred's behalf there would be a whole lot more.

"Why?"

"Your quarrel is not with Arthur, he saved your life," Merlin took a step forward earnestly and Mordred did not protest.

"The King committed genocide."

"Arthur wasn't even _alive_!"

"He's alive now but we're still dying!" Mordred looked away from Merlin to Arthur, who was struggling to keep his breath even and looking between the two standing above him in confusion.

"It wouldn't be murder…it would be self defense."

"It would be _murder, _and if you kill him you kill any chance of…" Merlin swallowed, the truth on his tongue, and finished lamely, "…freedom." Mordred was reading Merlin's intentions in his magic, but looked confused by his words. Nonplussed he raised a sharp eyebrow at Merlin, then a second when he realised.

"You haven't…" He looked at Arthur, then back at Merlin, his breath coming fast with sudden excitement, "he doesn't _know?_"

Merlin had nothing to say, which wasn't entirely a bad thing. He was feeling so sick he suspected he may just vomit if he opened his mouth. Watching him Mordred gave a sharp back of laughter that sounded like a shrieking crow.

"This is quite the situation," Mordred's voice was horribly cruel and wound tight with happiness, "how are you going to get out of this, Emrys."

Merlin looked at Arthur; Arthur looked at him, confused and scared. As much as he tried to hide it Merlin could see Arthur was afraid. Or maybe he couldn't, maybe he only thought he could because he knew Arthur so well that he knew, for a certainty, that Arthur would be afraid right now. That knowledge did something inside him, something unknown but powerful that hardened his resolve. It kept him standing and helped him look Mordred in the eye.

_Do anything, and he'll know you are magic. _Mordred's voice said suddenly in his mind. Merlin didn't flinch, but he did blink once in surprise. _Do anything other than what I tell you to do, and he'll know you are magic._

_I'd rather him know then he be dead! _Merlin spat back.

"Say it, then. If you want your precious prince to live, tell him."

Merlin desperately tried to think. Could he knock Mordred away without endangering Arthur? No. What were Mordred's goals? Was he just playing with them until he struck? Probably. Could Merlin take him?

Yes.

Arthur made a sound; Merlin could see his throat vibrate with effort but his teeth wouldn't part, so it just came out a garbled groan.

"It's okay Arthur," Merlin reassured him, "I'll get us out of this."

Arthur tried to speak again, staring at Merlin in desperation. His eyebrows didn't even raise in impatience at Merlin's apparent presumption.

"Say it!" Mordred commanded; he stepped behind Arthur and braced his right hand against the Prince's face, lifting the left to place the knife tip in the hollow at the corner of Arthur's eye. Uther groaned in his throat from the throne.

Arthur closed his eyes and clenched his face for pain.

"I have magic," the words burst out of him before they could be softened or veiled, before they could come too late.

Arthur's eyes snapped open.

Mordred breathed a laugh. He lowered his hand onto Arthur's shoulder; following it Merlin could see Mordred gripping the tensed muscles.

"Say it again," Mordred commanded.

"I…" Merlin lost his courage for a moment. In the moment of silence Uther snarled from the throne and Merlin looked up at him in sorrow then down at his son, where wordless pain rose in his chest.

"I have magic."

All he knew to do was to keep talking because that was the only way to stop the blade in Mordred's hand from drawing anymore blood, from _blinding _Arthur.

Talk now, think later, Merlin.

"Magic isn't evil, I have it," Merlin addressed Arthur, "I have used it to save you more times than I can count. I saved you from Sigan, Nimeuh. I killed the Afanc and the questing beast and stopped…"

"No!" Mordred yelled furiously, "tell him about all the people you killed, all the mistakes you made! Tell him the whole story!"

Mordred thoughtlessly took the knife from Arthur's eye and pointed it accusatorily at Merlin as he demanded,

"Tell him how…"

But that was as far as he got.

As soon as he had removed the knife from Arthur's throat Merlin struck with the force of a bolt of lightning. His left hand punched out as his right swept sidewards and the two forces slammed into Mordred at the exact same time. The left force flew over Arthur's head and smashed into the boy's face as the right hit his knife wielding arm at an angle, snapping it back and away from Arthur. The druid boy was thrown off his feet, head smacking loudly on the stone floor, magical knife vanishing into nothing as soon as it parted contract with his skin.

Merlin yanked his magic in, shattering the bonds holding Arthur, who lunged forwards and away from his former captor, scrambling on his knees as his hand instinctively flew to his side to draw his sword. Merlin raced forwards and putting himself between Mordred and Arthur just as the druid boy was sitting up, blood streaming from his clearly broken nose, eyes wide with fury. His magic rose and thickened to the point where it was almost visible, making the air ripple with heat and malice like an exhaling creature opening its wide, hot maw to devour them all. With a wordless snarl Merlin threw up his hands and a brilliant white light flashed through the room as Mordred's magic descended onto his. There was a great _CRACK _and both Mordred and Merlin were forced back a pace, their feet leaving scorched skid marks on the stone. Merlin's foot was forced into Arthur, who was still on the ground, and out of the corner of his eye Merlin saw a familiar line of silver and he threw himself out of the way.

With no opposing force Mordred's magic cleaved into the floor and Merlin just escaped the full force of Arthur's blade as it snaked past him to try and get to Mordred. He couldn't get fully out of range though and the tip he'd sharpened only yesterday tore through his pants and the flesh of his calf. Merlin yelled and his leg nearly gave out from under him but he sensed through his magic Mordred gathering himself for a second attack. Merlin threw out another brilliant white shield between the Druid and the occupants of the room a split-second before they were all incinerated.

"You idiot, Arthur, I can handle this," Merlin yelled, trying to hold off Mordred whilst seeking balance on his wounded leg. He looked across at Arthur, who was still on his knees.

"Just keep out of the…Arthur?"

Arthur rose up from his knees, pushing off the ground with one hand, sweaty blonde hair falling into eyes that were fixed on Merlin.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked stupidly, the world outside going quiet and distant for a moment; Mordred raging against his shield becoming a distant, insignificant speck in the wake of Arthur's expression. Arthur had layers on his face, there was hurt there, disbelief as well, but above it was determination and the sort of focus Merlin had seen so often on his face during battle. There was also the manic look in his eyes Arthur had seen once before when Arthur had tried to murder his own father…

Arthur stepped forwards and Merlin felt a thrill of fear.

"Arthur!"

Arthur lunged, sword flashing out, and Merlin skipped back wildly; he didn't want to use magic against Arthur, that would only make things worse…and it was _Arthur_. He retreated further from Arthur and a lash of heat scalded his shoulder as his attempted duel focus weakened; his head whipped around.

Mordred was laughing, watching Arthur attack Merlin with an almost childlike glee,

"See what you're fighting for, Emrys?" He yelled over the angry rumbling and buzzing of their magic, "You're fighting for a world where magic is free. Well there it is, look out. Freedom looks angry."

Merlin's eyebrows peaked in anguish. He didn't know where to look; he didn't know what to do.

"I TRUSTED YOU!" Arthur screamed and lunged at Merlin again; Merlin's blood stood out on the end of the blade Pendragon-red.

"You can trust me!" Merlin replied. His injured leg slid beneath him as Mordred's magic bore down on the both of them. Sensing his weakness Mordred struck out, but Merlin's shield held.

"I TRUSTED YOU! AND YOU'RE ONE OF THEM!"

"Arthur, no, it's not like that, I'm not evil," Merlin's voice went high and desperate. It couldn't be like this, it wasn't supposed to be like this, Arthur was supposed to understand. Merlin couldn't even summon up his arguments because all of his concentration was going into stopping Mordred.

"You betrayed me," Arthur said both angry and lost; his sword still between them. Merlin looked in his eyes; saw the pain, but then,

"_NO_!"

He span as, once again, he sensed Mordred's intentions through his magic. Both hands flashed out as Mordred whipped around like a rat and tried to sink his magic into Uther who was stilled pinned to his throne. The empty Queen's throne beside the king exploded into shrapnel and the stone floor at his feet cracked. Uther gave a yell of fear that was strangled by Mordred's hold but Merlin protected him from harm.

Frustrated, Mordred shot arrows of solidified fire at the knights but the fire vanished in the air as Merlin's shield held true, though his magic whined high out of hearing with effort.

"You cannot hurt anyone in this room, Mordred," Merlin's voice seared through the air and the druid boy flinched back as though physically burnt. Mordred lifted his hands but Merlin slashed one hand down and broke the back of the forming spell.

"You cannot hurt anyone in Camelot."

Mordred's eyes flicked to the side and something in his gaze prompted an instinct Merlin didn't recognize that made him leap, again, out of the reach of Arthur's blade. It caught him, again. This time the blade opened a searing line across his neck that an inch or so deeper would have severed more than just skin and muscle. Merlin put his hand to it and brought it away, his fingertips were running red. He looked at them for a moment, not believing, not understanding (when really, he did.)

"Fine," Mordred spat in an ugly voice as he realized his magic couldn't match against Merlin's, "Keep your Camelot and your Prince. He doesn't seem to want you anyway."

Before he could be seized and held captive by Merlin's magic Mordred vanished where he stood in a shriek of sound and sudden tumult of wind.

His magical grip suddenly empty Merlin staggered; his leg protested and he very nearly fell to one knee. But he kept his boots beneath him and he looked up to Arthur. Arthur was looking at where Mordred had vanished, confirming that he was really gone, then his eyes turned on Merlin.

If looks could kill Merlin would have died then and there.

"Arthur, _listen _to me, _please, _I've never tried to hurt you."

But Arthur was advancing and Merlin, for all his belief in Arthur's justice and honour, was retreating.

"You lied to me," Arthur snarled in a voice uglier than Mordred's.

"Guards, arrest that sorcerer!" Uther yelled, standing up amongst the wreckage that surrounded his throne with Mordred's spell broken at his feet.

"That's why!" Merlin said earnestly, imploringly, pointing with a flattened palm at Uther. Arthur inhaled in shock as his eyes followed Merlin's palm, entire body tensing up as he jerked it between Merlin and Uther. Watching Arthur, Merlin felt the first trickles of anything other than desperation; irritation.

"Arthur, I'm not going to hurt him. I just spent about ten minutes _saving _him! Saving both of you!" Merlin gestured even wider, "saving _all _of you."

The knights were gathering themselves, some already appeared to be sufficiently gathered for they were approaching Merlin, but when Merlin gestured they all flinched like a fleet of arrows had flown over their heads.

"I just _saved _you!" Merlin yelled, angrily now, at the knights. "Stop flinching!"

"Why?" Arthur yelled, retaking Merlin's attention. By the tone of his voice Merlin could tell he wasn't referring to his most recent comment. However he wasn't exactly sure what he was referring to and, not sure what he could say that wouldn't initiate another attempt at murd…no…attack, he stayed silent.

Angry at Merlin's lack of response Arthur took a step forwards that Merlin determinedly did not retreat from.

"Why did you do it?"

"Save you?" Merlin couldn't help it, he needed specification.

"Why?" Arthur spat again in confirmation.

Merlin trembled; adrenalin was racing through his veins, his instincts were screaming at him to fight, to run, but his heart wouldn't let him raise his hands or move his feet…and he _still _didn't understand what Arthur was referring to.

"Which time?" he said, voice wobbling slightly. Arthur growled and closed the gap between Merlin and his outstretched sword. The tip pressed against his shoulder and not moving his feet Merlin swivelled his shoulders away from the pressure.

"I'm asking because I have saved you so many times that I don't know which time you are referring too!" Merlin said in anguished irritation (he hadn't even know such an emotional state existed.)

Arthur glared at him, saying nothing. Uther was barking more orders along the vain of 'Arrest him!' with wild gestures at Merlin, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was Arthur and the sword that was still between them and getting him to _understand._

"I saved you just now for the same reason I always have. You're my friend ," Merlin said softly, honestly, feeling intensely vulnerable as he lowered his hands and let Arthur stand there holding a sword against him that had already tasted his blood.

"You're a sorcerer," Arthur snarled, but he was crying and not-crying and trying not to cry, so it wasn't his usual sort of snarl, "Why would you save me, a Pendragon?"

"Because you're my friend and you are going to make a brilliant King someday, as long as you live to see it," Merlin lowered his voice, his words for Arthur and Arthur alone, "you've saved men and women with magic before…You don't really think magic is evil, do you?" Merlin threw his whole world into question.

Arthur didn't respond. He didn't lower his sword but Merlin was too tenacious would not accept that as denial. He reached up slowly, so as not to appear a threat and tried to pushed Arthur's sword away. Renewing his glare with still gritted teeth Arthur held the sword still so tightly that it wobbled against Merlin's shoulder and cut a hole in his old, blue shirt.

"Arthur?" Merlin blinked back tears, his throat closing up and a wild, wild feeling rising in his chest that everything was going wrong. His hand dropped from the blade.

But then there was a second sword rising at his throat at Merlin was reeling backwards away from the knights' blade and away from Arthur. The knights had surrounded them and were closing their circle around Merlin, excluding Arthur, now that he was standing apart. Merlin looked around like a cornered wolf, but neither Gwaine nor Lancelot nor Leon, none of the knights Merlin knew, stood before him. There were only strangers and swords and murder hung in the air. He'd known they didn't before he'd looked, he knew they were on patrol, but he'd had to look all the same. One doesn't stand amongst enemies without searching for friends.

Merlin felt strangely vulnerable without Arthur's sword pointed at him.

"Merlin, I charge you with the crime of sorcery," Uther shouted from his throne. His fists were bunched at his side and actually shaking with the effort of his yell. "Execute him!"

No trial, no formalities; just 'Off with his head!' Classic Uther.

Merlin glared at Uther and flexed his hands. Ready.

"No."

Nobody seemed to know what he meant. Arthur was still watching him from over the knights' shoulders.

Not one of the knights moved.

"Execute him," Uther commanded with narrowed eyes. A knight stepped forward, Merlin didn't know who he was, and raised his sword. The circle tensed around him, sure of imminent retaliation, and the knight paused with his sword held above his.

The whole world was watching Merlin.

Arthur straightened; expression somewhere between unreadable and confusing.

Merlin lowered his head, glaring at the floor, and clenched his fists.

He.

Was.

Not.

A.

Threat.

The sword descended, flashing in the daylight (was the sun still shining?) coming in through the windows, aimed at his arched, exposed neck. Arthur moved and made a soft noise that Merlin's heart heard that was drowned out when, with a terrific metal screech, the sword was diverted from its path by the magic Merlin held around him.

Everybody looked at Merlin, stunned. Merlin felt rebellious and angry and oddly insulted. After he'd held off Mordred, who must've been about five thousand times more dangerous than these knights, did Uther think he would just let them kill him? With no fight and no protest?

"Execute him!" Uther yelled for the third time. His voice had gotten distinctly higher pitched.

"They can't..." Merlin paused, chewing for words, and finished with the feeling like he was betraying murdered strangers with, "sire."

Resentful and regretful, seemingly disrespectful, but for all Uther had done, the fact that Merlin had addressed him as 'sire' spoke volumes to anyone who cared to listen. (Though of course no one did.)

"Execute him!" Uther yelled shrilly, "Kill him! Somebody kill him!"

A second knight struck at Merlin. Merlin flinched ever so minutely, but his shield diverted the blade once again. A third lifted and felled his sword. A fourth. A fifth.

Uther strode down the stairs too quickly to be determined, but just quickly enough to be desperate. Yanking a sword from the hands of one of his knights without even looking to see whose sword he was taking Uther strode across to the circle of knights who parted before him, raised the sword and brought it slashing down.

If the sword had struck true it would've been a messy kill. It would've cut through the front half of Merlin's skull and face and open him up to the naval without cutting through him entirely. He might've even needed a second stroke for a merciful death, though knowing Uther at that point he would've denied a blade being brought against a sorcerer for the only time, ever.

But of course it did not fall because Merlin did not let it. The sword struck sparks in mid-air but would descend no further and Uther glared beneath his raised arms at Merlin, who looked back. Merlin forced himself to look calm; determined yet not threatening. His palms were sweating and his spine felt like water but the pain from his leg and neck was helping him focus. (The pain in his heart, however, would be distracting if he let himself feel it, so he closed that part of him out.)

Then Uther's glare changed, faltered, and he was stepping back and dropping the sword and staring with growing horror at a sorcerer he _could not kill. _

"Get out," he ordered in a weak and fearful voice, "get away. You…you're…I banish you from Camelot!"

Merlin wouldn't accept execution and he wouldn't settle for banishment, not when he could taste freedom ever so faintly on the air.

"I'm not leaving. You'll die if I leave," Merlin responded. "If I hadn't been here Mordred would've finished you all off easier than putting on a pair of boots. And there are about a hundred other sorcerers who would do the same."

Uther opened his mouth furiously but Merlin overrode him,

"And if you're about to say that this proves all sorcerers are evil, leave it. There are also hundreds of people who would try to finish you off with a blade and I don't see you labelling all knights evil. The fact that I am here, a sorcerer, using magic to protect you when you cannot proves that you are wrong. Magic is not evil. Magic does not corrupt. The love of power corrupts, be that power from magic, swords or the crown," Merlin glared at this man, this terrified man, who had hurt and killed so many. He was breathing hard but not as hard as Uther.

"How much do you love your crown, sire?"

"I want him dead! I want him gone!" Uther yelled hysterically as he backed away faster from Merlin. He was thoroughly unnerved.

"I'm not dying and I am not leaving," Merlin stated loudly and clearly for the entire hall to hear. Uther's eyes rolled in his sockets, seeking and finding Arthur.

"Arthur!"

The sound of his name snapped Arthur to attention from where he'd been staring, dumbstruck, thunderstruck, at Merlin.

"You…you went to the sorcerer's village a few years ago. Go and find his mother and bring her back as a hostage," Uther's cruel eyes met Merlin's shocked expression, "maybe that will convince him."

Fear and fury rippled up Merlin's spine, making him giddy, and for a moment he wondered if this was how Uther was feeling.

He could stop them, oh how easily he could stop them. He wouldn't even have to kill him (his mind tingled at the edges at this thought.) But to do so he'd have to use magic against Arthur and his heart rebelled because his heart knew how much Arthur would loathe that, knew how it would drive Arthur into believing his father's ignorant spiels about the terrible nature of magic.

But maybe…Merlin looked at Uther, then quickly at the knights. These men did not look courageous enough to call his bluff (he was trying to not to think about whether or not Arthur was.)

"I'd like to see you try."

The threat hung in the air and Uther trembled, once, with his whole body.

"Send…" he began but stopped at Merlin's sudden movement. Gold light rippled down Merlin's fingers and he bent swiftly and touched the ground with one hand. He straightened.

"Like I said, I'd like to see you try," Merlin said with narrowed eyes, feeling the charm that would alert him to anybody approaching Ealdor race away through the earth. His threat was as palpable as the sword in Arthur's hand but Merlin prayed no one would test hit, for he didn't know what he would do if Camelot marched on Ealdor…he didn't know what he would allow himself to do…

"I…Arthur…I…Knights!" Uther turned from person to person desperately, but no-one could help him. His whole life he'd spent painting himself into this corner. He'd dug himself into a hole, he'd made his bed and now had to lie in it, but the bolts were loose and it would fall apart if he put his whole weight on it.

Arthur looked stricken and angry and confused, and a lot of other things that Merlin felt at the moment. Merlin desperately, desperately, _desperately _wanted to just go somewhere calm and quiet with Arthur and let him rage and cry. Arthur was the sort of person who needed to shout before they would listen, but Merlin didn't think Arthur hadn't gotten all of his rage out of his system yet, even with his two wounds and the multiple attempts Arthur had made at making more.

An honest part of Merlin's heart didn't know if Arthur would ever get his rage out of his system.

Uther knew he couldn't hurt Merlin, knew he couldn't make him leave. Without those options he didn't know what to do. Everybody was standing around, terrified, aimless and leaderless. Everyone in the room, except hopefully Arthur (please) seemed to be anticipating being struck down and punished for the presumption of being present. Merlin didn't want to see their fear of him anymore. It hurt him in ways hatred never could.

Merlin had to leave. He needed to give these threatened-feeling people (and it broke his heart that these people he had known and laughed with and fought for feared him) time and space to feel safe and feel some measure of control, because only then did he have a chance at convincing them that they were safe, that magic wasn't evil. At the moment his arguments and any further points he might make were futile, these people were too afraid to not fear him. They were too busy feeling like victims of a tyrant to realise Merlin was trying to free them from one.

He knew where he would go of course, to Gaius'. Only it would not be prudent to say it (though Gaius was already in up to his neck, over his head, with his young sorcerer ward.)

"Now," he said, drawing himself up and away from his bleeding leg (and bleeding heart,) "I must go and place some protective spells on the castle I could not cast in secret. I'll be seeing you later."

And…there was nothing left to say; no goodbyes: he wasn't leaving, no explanations: they wouldn't listen, so Merlin said 'Sire' stiffly to Uther, 'Sire' hesitantly to Arthur who was determinedly not looking at him, turned and left the hall; trying all the while not to limp. Walking through the doors he took one look back; no one had moved, but Uther was staring at the spots of blood Merlin had dripped on the stones like he was wondering if it was realistic to replace the entire floor.

Then Merlin took three steps and was out of sight.

It was halfway to Gaius' that he let himself stop, lean against a wall, and take a deep, shuddering breath to try and stabilize his soul.

"Everyone knows."

Gaius looked up from his work bench. It wasn't a cursory glance; Merlin's voice was thick with emotion and heavy with meaning, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

Merlin looked back at his adopted-uncle (a.k.a uncle) and leant against the door. One hand was pressed against his neck that was slippery with blood and the other still rested on the door handle he needed for balance. He could barely put any weight on his leg without falling and could barely touch the memory of Arthur without feeling like he'd already fallen over (the edge of a cliff in the dark with only a cold ocean drown him at the bottom.)

Gaius did his usual exclamation of, 'Merlin!' and hurried over; snatching up a large clean cloth as he came to press gently against Merlin's bleeding neck.

"What happened?"

"Everybody _knows._"

"I take it you don't mean that everybody knows I've run out of blue ink," Gaius said gently, easing Merlin's hand off the door and leading him over to the dinner table. They'd had breakfast there only this morning. Merlin stared at the breakfast bowls, cleaned and stacked, until he couldn't see them anymore.

"I…" Merlin could barely breath, he felt completely disconnected from the world, "I…I…"

"Hush, my boy," Gaius bustled around, placing a kettle over the fire and bringing his medical kit to Merlin's side, "it will be okay."

He didn't even asked what happened, Merlin knew Gaius would be curious but that his care for him came first. He closed his eyes and hunched away as Gaius began wiping away the blood on his neck.

Gaius had probably guessed, Merlin had never been so unhinged before. But he still had to explain…

"Mordred was there, I had to stop him. Everyone knows."

"Merlin…_Merlin, _this is very important," Gaius said firmly, hands still on Merlin's neck apart. He looked up.

"_Are they coming?_"

"No," Merlin replied.

"Are you _sure?_"

"They can't come, I placed a protective ward on the door; they can't come. Oh, no, I've lead them right to you Gaius, no, I have to leave!"

Showing life for the first time since entering the room, and quite a lot of it, Merlin stood and tried to extricate him from Gaius who was now using the bandages to restrain him.

"No, Merlin, they know I, sit down, they know I'm involved anyway, sit _down, _leaving will serve no purpose. And I don't want you to leave, I wish to be involved."

Merlin stilled, one arm twisted in front of him from where he'd been wriggling from Gaius' hold.

"If they know about you, my boy, then it is time for me to openly declare my loyalties, and they are to magic, _to you._"

Merlin didn't move and fresh blood ran from his neck across where the old blood had been smeared away.

"Now sit down!" Gaius ordered in his physician voice, Merlin did the wise thing and sat. As Gaius removed the kettle from the fire and used the boiled water to wash his neck and leg he haltingly told Gaius what had happened. He couldn't verbalize Arthur's reaction, Arthur's _expression, _but Gaius heard it in the words Merlin didn't say and read it on the expression Merlin tried to hide.

When Merlin was cleaned and bandaged Gaius gave him a cup of tea (for the nerves, he said) and sat back, eyeing the boy who eyed his tea which eyed no-one…as it tea.

"What are you going to do now?" He asked hesitantly.

Merlin replied around the rim of his cup, which he held to his face for warmth even though he wasn't cold,

"Stay."

His voice was not firm but it wasn't weak either.

"Stay? I'm not sure that's exactly wise, Merlin…or safe for that matter."

"They can't hurt me," Merlin flicked a finger and his eyes flashed gold for a moment, "and now they can't hurt you either. They can't hurt my mother…they cannot touch me in any way."

"Yes but…Merlin, what do you hope to achieve by staying? You can't change anybody's minds by force."

"I can't change anybody's minds by running away, either. Now more than ever Mordred and Morgana and probably the rest of the magical community who wants to take over Camelot will target Arthur. They'll think I am cowed by Uther or in some way restrained magically in order to still be alive and they'll take their chances at the throne. I'll simply do what I have always done; I'll protect Camelot, only now everyone will know I am doing it." Merlin looked towards the window, the sky was bright and sun was high.

"And when people see that I, a sorcerer, am saving Camelot, they'll _have _to question whether or not magic is evil. I'll show them it's not, I'll show them all."

The _'I'll show Arthur'_ went unsaid.

"It might not be that easy, Merlin," Gaius said warningly.

"I don't think it's going to be easy, but it _has _to be done. Enough is enough, Gaius. Uther has been persecuting sorcerers and sorceress' for too long. It ends now!"

Gaius looked at Merlin sympathetically.

"I didn't mean it wouldn't be easy defending yourself or fighting for magical rights. You have a big heart Merlin. You wear it on your sleeve where it can be easily hurt. You need to prepare yourself for how people will treat you."

Merlin looked at Gaius,

"I know," he said in a small voice, "but this is bigger than I am, Gaius. I can't just give up because I'm afraid of getting hurt. There are people out there, everywhere, druids and magicians and warlocks, all of them are depending on me."

"I know, I know," Gaius leant forwards and hugged Merlin who returned the gesture somewhat painfully, due to his neck, "just...try to remember that and not take what people say and do to heart."

"You know me Gaius, heart of stone," Merlin feebly joked into the rolls of cloth on Gaius' shoulders.

Gaius laughed but shook his head,

"Not you, my boy. Never you."

**::Arthur::**

The vase exploded against his door. It was followed by an inkpot which left a trail of its lifeblood across the room until it splattered into the wall. Then there was a goblet, a candle and a thick wooden paper weight, each thudding into the door like arrows, but falling down without the sharpened point to spearhead their charge.

Arthur tried to lift his chair to hurl it across the room as well, what it would achieve he had not yet decided, but it was too heavy and he merely succeeded in tipping it over… unsatisfactorily tipping it over…it didn't even crash when it hit the floor.

He sat, suddenly exhausted and braced his fists against the stone to try, once again, to get a handle on himself. His thoughts were jagged, primal things and he was having considerable difficulty not crying.

A guard hammered on the door yelling through in concern and trying to rattle it open but Arthur had jammed a second chair beneath the door handle.

"Leave me alone," Arthur hissed to the floor.

The guard banged again, louder.

"Leave me!" Arthur bellowed, twisting up onto his knees to glare furiously at the ink-splattered door. There was a pause before the guard knocked again, slightly timidly, yelling that the King wanted him.

Arthur saw red-white-gold-(Merlin) and in one clean and silent motion drew his hunting knife from its scabbard in the small of his back and flung it at the wooden door. It slammed into the door half way up the blade and the guard outside gave a startled squawk, presumably from having a few inches of naked steel appear a hands width from their face. The guard scurried off and Arthur made a growling noise of rage and satisfaction. But it was a noise of pain as well, because now, ringing alone in his ears was Merlin's admission of being a sorcerer.

"Damn you!" Arthur yelled, hurling himself to his feet and wrenching his sword from its scabbard. He swung it in front of him, muscles yanking on the bone, watching the dried blood on the end with vindictive pleasure.

"GOOD!" He yelled, swinging his sword at the table, embedding the bloodied blade into the wood. Bracing one foot against the table he pulled the blade free with such force the desk overturned. "GOOD!" He yelled again, "I hope you die you lying traitor!"

He lashed at the candle holder on his bed side table and sent it skittering across the room. He swung his sword at his bed post, once, twice, and then did a big looping overhead twist with his blade he'd never use in combat and brought the sword slamming down into the floor. If there hadn't been the thick carpet right next to his bed he probably would've chipped the blade. As it was his arms jarred and he dropped the sword. Arthur lifted his aching hands to hold them in front of his face to see if they were vibrating.

"Why did you do this?" He asked his empty room. Outside he could hear the sounds of Camelot drifting in through the window. The sounds of birds and people and wind.

His voice fell empty into the room like an open book, meaningless without somebody to read it.

"Why did you lie?"

**::Merlin::**

"I need to see him!"

"Merlin."

"Get out of the way, Gaius."

"No, Merlin, stop it!" Gaius stood between Merlin and the door, one hand out placating (threateningly?) the other holding the door handle, as if Merlin could've turned it with his mind. Which he could've.

"I have to explain!"

It was dark outside and the room was lit by the fire and the candles. The shadows flickered and wavered, dancing in agitation along with Merlin.

"Merlin, listen…no, _listen to me, _I'm not letting you go! The last time you were near him the Prince nearly took your head off!" Gaius said firmly; Merlin glared.

"That's because I haven't explained to him! Once I explain he won't try to hurt me!"

"We don't know you'll live long enough to convince him!"

"I'll defend myself!"

"And what will you do then? Stand behind your magic and preach at him? Give it _time _Merlin, stopping being so _impatient _before you cause irreparable damage!"

The warlock shuddered with his entire body, once, like ice water had suddenly been poured down his back, but when he saw Gaius' sympathetic, understanding (how dare he?) expression he span on one heel and marched across the room to his own. He had slammed his door before Gaius had taken one step away from his.

Merlin stood with his back to the door, magic growling, fury, hurt and fear prowling through it. He went to go to his shelf, to tear apart his books as if they might help answer the giant, ambiguous question mark in his chest, but switched mid-step and went to his window. However the sight of Camelot at night did little to calm him because when he could see multiple guards positioned to watch his window, one of them even dashing away at the sight of him to, undoubtable, report to Uther that the sorcerer was doing something as dastardly as look out of his window.

Merlin felt angry at the guards, and Uther, and tried to focus on this anger because it was so much easier to feel then the anguish over Arthur, which was a gaping chasm at his mind's feet. He felt so alone, Gaius didn't understand him, for all of his love Merlin sometimes felt that the physician hardly _knew _him. The only other people he could've talked to were Gwen, Lancelot or Gwaine. Lancelot and Gwaine were out of reach on patrol, though no doubt Uther would be sending messages to the knights on rotation to call them back to Camelot, as though if he could somehow get enough knights at his side he would be able to slay Merlin. And he couldn't talk Gwen, it would implicate her with his 'crimes,' at least in the eyes of Uther. And though he knew she would have heard about…well...him…by now, and would want to talk to him, he wouldn't do that to her.

Pulling himself from his window Merlin fell back onto his bed and lay for a moment, staring at the ceiling. After a few more minutes he pulled his legs up, rolled onto his side, and curled into what was definitely not the foetal position. The side he is lying on was warm, his other side was cold. Merlin looked at his hand, flexed it open, and stared at the lifeline. The further point, the beginning, of the lifeline was in clear focus, but it curved too close to his eyes and was rendered a blur before it disappeared beneath his face altogether.

And so he lay there to wait out whatever it was he was supposed to be waiting out and remembered, only a few days past, when he had made Arthur laugh.


	2. Chapter 2: Making and Breaking

**Hello lasses and lads. **

**This is the first time I've done a multi-chapter story, so if it uploads back to front or upside down (somehow) please be patient with my ignorance. You can still be irritated, I would not be as presumptuous to ask you to not get irritated, but be simultaneously patient.**

**I plan to upload a chapter once a week. I'll aim for every Wednesday (every Australian Wednesday, no idea what that translates to in your country unless your country is Australia) but it may be a little earlier or a little later.**

**I hope you enjoy this story **

**Chapter 2…commence!**

…**.**

**CHAPTER 2.**

"**Making and Breaking."**

_**::Merlin and Arthur::**_

_The memory would not have been possible without the presence of the visiting Lord and his Lady and their entourage of petty nobles. The memory was now so treasured by Merlin that he almost would've been grateful to the nobles, except for what they did to Gwen. _

_One the third night of their stay Lord Moledue (Mol-eh-due, as much as Merlin thought mole-due was more appropriate merely because of the unflattering yet accurate mental imagery it created) had made advances on Gwen. Neither Merlin nor Arthur had been present, Moledue and Gwen were in fact the only ones present, but Gwen had relayed the events to Arthur in a determinedly calm voice. Moledue had been drunk and, when Gwen had been removing the changed linens from his room, had ran his hand over her back and behind when her hands were full. Gwen had dropped the linens, more to free her hands should she need them then from shock, and spun to face him and tell him in no uncertain terms that advances on servants were not welcome in the castle. Moledue had tried to back her against a wall but Gwen had bent his fingers in a way they did not enjoy bending in and had left the area whilst Moledue was assuring himself that none of his fingers had been broken. _

_The issue could've finished there. Moledue was a lazy Lord and would not pursued Gwen further and would've let matters lie, but Gwen had reported what had occurred to the castle staff overseer. Various protocols had ensued and had resulted in a private reprimand given to Moledue. Arthur had learnt of what had occurred and had been all for personally confronting Moledue. Gwen had needed to be very firm when telling him the situation had been dealt with and that him charging into the fray armed with a sword and his indignation would not help in the slightest. However they had deemed it to be prudent that she make herself absent from the castle for the duration of the Lord's stay and so she had stayed with one of the castle seamstresses who was named Lacey, somewhat ironically. Gwen had ended up staying there for longer than the Lord's stay, just in case Uther had heard about the incident and was angry at a servant for 'embarrassing' a diplomat. _

_These events had resulted in Arthur being blazingly furious and simultaneously unable to express said fury due to what Uther referred to as 'political relations of the crown' and what Arthur referred to as 'rubbish.' With Gwen absent Merlin was left to pick up the pieces and try to fit them back together again, a process hindered somewhat by Arthur's sharpened temper._

"_Come on Arthur," Merlin cajoled, somewhat warily, from across the other side of the Prince's rooms (there's no shame in playing it safe, he told himself,) "eat something."_

_Arthur stared out his window and muttered unintelligibly in Merlin's direction. Merlin didn't need to hear what he was saying to know that Arthur was making threats about a certain visiting Lord._

"_Something. Anything, please? You had no lunch and were out training the nights half the afternoon," Merlin folded a sheet in his unique way that left it unrecognizable as a sheet._

"_I'm not hungry," Arthur growled, along with some choice threats. Knowing Arthur's mood was on not so much a downward spiral as a plummet only aided by his surely present hunger Merlin was desperate to get him to eat._

"_Come on," he raked his brain for a moment, "you know, I'm fairly certain I saw some of those iced cinnamon-cakes in the kitchens when I got your dinner!"_

_Arthur looked up, his attention caught. The iced cinnamon-cakes were one of his favourite dishes and were only made for special occasions. He looked back into the courtyard but had already betrayed himself. Merlin knew the mention of cinnamon-cakes had sparked his hunger, but Arthur would now be feeling too proud to end his hunger strike for his weakness for sugar. So Merlin had to go about cajoling and convincing him in excess until Arthur felt that it would not appear weak to go and get some of the cinnamon-cakes as his manservant was practically on his knees begging him to eat._

_Merlin tailed Arthur to the kitchens, waited patiently by his side as he asked the cooks for the confectionaries then carried it back to Arthur's room, Arthur of course could not help as he was a prince…and was too busy stuffing his face._

_But the iced cinnamon-cakes did not have the effect Merlin thought they would. Arthur ate heaps of the things, nearly half of the tray which had been piled high to the point of being ludicrous, yet didn't appear sated. He merely slowed down, staring at the cinnamon-cake in hand with a morose, disappointed expression._

"_Are they…not as good as usual?" Merlin asked tentatively, ready to duck should Arthur through the cake at Merlin's head (Arthur had the unique ability to turn a small confectionary item into a dangerous projectile.) He picked up a book under the pretext of dusting the shelf but really to use it as a shield (though if Geoffrey ever learnt Merlin had used one of the expensive texts on the royal line as protection from a cake based attack his life would be forfeit anyway.) Arthur sighed around a mouthful of cake and replaced the one he had been eating on the tray. In a moment of inexplicable sadness he said,_

"_I thought they'd cheer me up."_

_Merlin looked at him for a moment, frowning so hard he was at risk of imminent injury. At his silence Arthur looked up, embarrassed, and upon seeing his expression snapped,_

"_What?"_

"_Come with me," Merlin said._

"_What?" Arthur's tone changed to taken aback bafflement. _

"_Come with me," Merlin said again, putting down the book._

"_Merlin, I think I need to plain to you again the term 'social hierarchy.'"_

_Merlin had the presumption to grab Arthur's arm and pull him to his feet, it was only Arthur's feeling of deflation over the cupcakes failure to cheer him up that stopped him from overturning the nearby water jug on the servants head. But then Merlin had turned and was saying,_

"_Trust me."_

_Arthur shook Merlin from his arm and followed him out the room. _

"_This is a bad idea," Arthur said, looking dubiously into the pot._

"_This," Merlin announced from where he stood balanced on a chair to reach Gaius' medical cabinet, "is one of my best ideas yet."_

_Arthur pinched some salt from the pot and watched it fall back in._

"_Do you know how expensive this stuff is?" Arthur asked._

_Merlin, one foot up on the back of the chair that was at severe risk of over balancing, flapped his arms dismissively, making the chair wobble precariously and Arthur suck in a breath. Salt wasn't the easiest thing to come by in Camelot by regular means, but for Merlin it was merely a case of going into the forest and finding a natural saltlick then extracting and purifying some of it with his magic to replace Gaius' stocks. _

"_Merlin you're going to get yourself killed!" The words forced themselves out of him before he could censor them for macho-ness as the chairs' back legs actually lifted off the ground._

"_Got it!" Merlin announced triumphantly, holding a small cloth pouch aloft. He turned, placed his weight on his top foot, and promptly overturned the chair. Arthur darted forwards to try and stop his manservant from breaking his idiotic neck over an attempt to cheer him up, a goal he did achieve in an albeit unplanned fashion as he cushioned Merlin's fall with his own body._

"_Get off me you moron," he snarled and pushed away Merlin's elbow…knee…ankle…whatever it was jammed in his mouth. It turned out it had been the flat of Merlin's arm, but the boy was so bony it had felt like being hit in the mouth with the pommel of a sword._

"_Wait, I just…" _

_The idiot was checking the pouch for damage before worrying about maybe not suffocating the next in line for the crown. _

"_Get off!" Arthur pushed Merlin forcibly off his chest, Merlin squawked all the while and flailed like a spider with limbs made of wood…all of which seemed to hit Arthur in the head even though Merlin was moving in the opposite direction._

"_Ow," Arthur growled, then gagged and spat. Half of the salt had fallen on the floor, the other half into his mouth. Coughing and spitting Arthur rolled onto his hands and knees._

"_Oi! That's my floor, don't go spitting all over it!" Merlin yelled._

"_You idiot," Arthur growled for lack of anything else to say. Merlin hobbled back to Arthur on his knees and pushed him away from the scattered salt, sweeping it back into the pot with his palm._

"_There's no way_ *pah, pah* _there's no way that's hygienic."_

"_Who cares, it's going into Moledue's goblet, not yours."_

_Standing, Merlin held the pouch aloft in one hand and the pot aloft in the other, receiving a furious glare from Arthur. _

"_Come on," he said cheerfully._

"_What is that stuff anyway?"_

"_This?" Merlin looked at the pouch, "this is thyme. Gaius' uses it in teas and such. But due to ah, an accident in which I may have, may not have gotten my head stuck in a sack of ground thyme…"_

_Arthur raised one eyebrow and wondered whether or not it would be safer, and saner, to end this ridiculous idea before one of them could really get hurt and lock Merlin in a padded room where he could cause no further damage to anything or anyone…himself in particular._

"…_I discovered that when inhaled it makes you sneeze a lot. It was hilarious; Gaius inhaled half of his soup."_

_Arthur's second eyebrow raised, but so did the corner of his mouth at the visual. Then he frowned,_

"_Wait…was this the same day where you sneezed all over my father during the Royal Court?"_

"_Yes," Merlin pranced through the door and down the hallway, "but that's the price you pay when you are in the throes of scientific discovery!"_

"_Throes?" Arthur muttered to himself, getting a second, less welcome visual of Merlin being in the 'throes' of anything. It sounded like childbirth…or something else that he in no way wished to visualize._

_It took all of the way to the dining hall for Arthur to be able to look Merlin in the face again. Merlin, the idiot, had checked to make sure it really _was _thyme by sniffing the stuff and they had to pause in a servant's corridor for him to get over a severe bout of sneezing. The sound of him cleaning out his sinuses was so ridiculous Arthur couldn't help laughing. Merlin smiled up at him; thrilled his plan was working, but was overwhelmed by another bout of sneezing._

_They got to the dining hall and put their ears to the door. A passing servant eyed them warily, but they were both still giggling because Merlin now sounded like he had an intense head cold due to the after effects of the thyme, so they only giggled harder at the servant's expression. When the man realized he was looking at none other than the Prince of Camelot engaged in mischief he turned and walked as quickly as he could away from the scene, probably hoping to avoid implication in whatever it was they were about to do. Arthur laughed harder at this and the two boys had to grab onto each other to stand up, desperately trying to stifle their laughter so as not to alert the occupants of the room on the other side of the door._

_Finally they got themselves under control._

"_How do we actually do this without them noticing?" Arthur asked, "You could go in and offer to refill their goblets."_

"_What? And get caught? No thanks, I'd spend the rest of my life in the stocks. No, I have a better idea. You call them to the door and distract them and I'll…"_

"_How?"_

"_Oh I don't know," Merlin flapped his hands again and nearly brained himself on the salt pot, "regale them with some tale of woe or honour or something. Be creative. Anyway, whilst you distract them I'll sneak in the servants' entrance and put the salt in the goblets and the thyme on their napkins. I'll then sneak out, you can excuse yourself, and we'll watch the fun from the servants' entrance."_

"_They'll see us watching!"_

"_They won't, it's hidden behind a tapestry of something boring…"  
"Something boring? That's my great uncle Berne giving a three-headed dog a good thrashing for eating my great aunt Bertha!"_

"_Yeah, yeah, whatever," and Merlin walked over to the main door and lifted his hand to knock on it._

"_Wait," Arthur hissed, reaching to stop him, "what am I supposed to say? What if my father is in there?"_

"_Improvise!" Merlin smiled cheekily at him and knocked thrice on the door; opening it and announcing Arthur's presence before he could do anything more than arrange his face into an irritated expression, which wasn't exactly difficult. _

"_Good evening, Lord Moledue, Lady Moledue," he said as Merlin disappeared from sight. Thankfully Uther was elsewhere and only the Moledue's and one of their advisors were at dinner. _

"_Good evening," Lord Moledue looked around and he, his wife and their advisor stood for the Prince, "would you care to join us sire?"_

"_I…no thank you. I just wished to inform you about…"_

_They were making no moves to leave the table and Merlin, damn him had he _no _sense whatsoever? was already poking his head through the servants door._

"_A…boar, that I slayed, slew, the other day."_

"_Oh, yes," Lady Moledue nodded politely._

"_Yes, I…come to the corridor, I wish to…um…re-enact it…for you."_

_The tables occupants stood politely and moved to the door, the panderers probably thought if they listened they'd get less of an annual tax over wood exports, and Arthur saw over their shoulders Merlin pause in the doorway to half a case of severe, silent laughter. _

_Arthur moved back into the corridor and, feeling like a blithering idiot, began to regale the Moledue's of the completely fictional encounter with the boar._

"_Well, I went out hunting on my own…" (wait, that wouldn't be believable… )"well, with Mer-my manservant, to carry my hunting gear of course," (there, now if anyone around the castle heard of this tale they would not wonder why it hadn't been witnessed on an actual hunting trip.)_

"_We were riding through the woods when Merlin, my servant that is, was attacked by a boar…"_

_The advisor was looking tired, he of course had less motivation to pay attention. His gaze went to drift off longingly back at his dinner, where Merlin was quite obviously tampering with the nobles goblets. Arthur had to catch his attention!_

"_...with three heads! (Ah! Inspired! Probably from the dog tapestry…) The boar had three heads! All of them tusked and wanting to eat my servant!"_

_Merlin, seeming not to pick up that Arthur was desperate for him to be finished as quick as possible, took the time to give him a look of condescension at his terrible lying skills._

"_Well, I told him to '_Hurry up!' _and get out of the boars way, and he climbed a tree because…you know…he'd be eaten otherwise…" (Why oh why did Arthur's public speaking skills chose to be absent now, of all times?) "But the boar tried to grab him from the tree, with its teeth…it was quite a tall boar, so I grabbed my sword…" _

_Arthur drew his sword to looks of alarm from the Moledues and advisor, all of whom took several hasty steps back. Merlin had finished salting the goblets and was now putting pinches of thyme onto the napkins. _

"_I cut the left ear of its left head off to catch its attention, and I began drawing the boar away from Merlin." _

_Arthur gave a controlled overhand blow with his sword, Moledue made what he seemed to think were suitably impressed sounds._

"_The trees were thick so I wove through them…"_

_Arthur ducked his head as if he were avoiding branches, holding his sword in front of him in the guard position._

"…_keeping them between me and the enraged, three-headed boar. But it was cunning, it didn't try to rush me, it circled through the trees to try and drive me into the open…" (Where on earth was this story supposed to go? How could it realistically end without him attaining a glaringly absent injury?)_

_Merlin put the thyme on the last napkin and raised his arm to catch Arthur's attention. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he ducked around the non-existent boar, but then inhaled sharply again in disbelief; Merlin had paused, arm raised, eyes fixed on the middle of the table where there was a tower of confectionaries. At the top was a platter of fresh brownies._

"_Merlin tried to help so I yelled, '_Don't even think about it_!'"_

_Merlin paid Arthur's thinly veiled message no attention and was putting down the pot and pouch without even looking where they were going, eyes fixed on the brownies. The pot overturned into a bowl of soup._

"_Whilst I was distracted by my servant the boar got close and almost got me, but I parried the middle head and was able to cut into the jugular of the right head. That made it mad, but I knew it was a matter of time before it bled to death."_

_Lady Moledue looked disinterested. Arthur saw her checking the angle of the shadows to determine the time. Behind her, Merlin was climbing onto the table._

_I am going to end his life, Arthur vowed to himself, trying to internalize his seething. I am actually going to kill him._

_Merlin finally grabbed the brownies and clambered off the table, putting his knee into the butter as he did so and then overturning a bowl of bread rolls as he tried to gesture to Arthur that he was finished and the Prince could wrap up his story. _

"_I raced through the trees around the boar, making it run and run so that it bled to death quicker." (This really wasn't appropriate dinner conversation. Arthur hoped they weren't being served pork.)_

"_It was staggering around. My servant grabbed our horses so that we could leave but I had to make sure it was dead in case it terrorized the villagers or other…forest animals…"_

_Lord Moledue, Lady Moledue and the advisor gave him looks that were obviously supposed to convey some concern for his sanity and future of the realm. Behind them Merlin had twisted, noticing the butter dish stuck to his leg, and overturned a chair trying to quickly peel it off and put it back on the table._

"_So I YELLED 'DIE DAMN YOU AND NEVER COME BACK TO CAMELOT!'" Arthur bellowed, waving his sword around madly to cover the sound of Merlin half catching the chair with one hand and balancing the brownies in the other. The chair rattled against the table, but Arthur's audience was too busy fearing for their lives because of the sword-waving, apparently recently-deranged Prince in front of them. Merlin beat a rapid retreat after that and Arthur was able to, finally (finally, finally, finally) able to finish this ludicrous situation._

"_And I cut its heads off, got back on my horse, and came back to Camelot."_

_Okay, story over, he now had to leave and never see these people again, hopefully forgetting about this mortifying experience. _

"_So, I hope you enjoy your dinner," he backed away from them. The Moledue's and the advisor, realizing the story had abruptly ended, made vague congratulatory sentences as they also backed away from him. _

"_Yes, sire, thank you sire." _

_Arthur heard one of them mutter 'please never come near us ever again, sire,' but preferred to snap the door shut then find out who it actually was. Arthur raced around to the servants' corridor, where he found Merlin half slumped on the ground barely able to breathe for the laughter he was desperately trying to keep quiet._

"_That was…the stupidest story…I have ever heard," Merlin actually had tears, actual tears, running down his face for laughing so hard. Arthur boxed him over the ears._

"_That was the most awkward situation of my life! What are they going to think of me? They probably think some raving lunatic is next in line for the throne!"_

_Merlin was too busy laughing hysterically to care about the repercussions the day's events would have on the political relations between the Lords and the Royals._

"_You are a complete idiot," Arthur said, pronouncing every word so clearly the insult was palpable. Merlin giggled._

"_I can't _believe _my _father _gave _you_ a _job _in the _castle_!" Arthur moved forward jabbing Merlin in the side and Merlin beat him back with fistfuls of brownies._

"_These weren't part of the plan!" Arthur snapped, snatching the food from Merlin's hand and waving it and the brownie clenched inside in front of Merlin's face. _

"_But they're so good," Merlin giggles again and Arthur can see brownie crumbs in the creases of his smile. _

"_Well come on," Arthur stands, dragging Merlin to his feet, "we don't want to have done all of this for nothing."_

_Merlin snatched up the platter as they left and shoved a handful of brownie at Arthur, who took it and begrudgingly ate it. He may have liked iced cinnamon cakes better, but when eaten around laughter when pressed against the crack in the door in eager anticipation, the brownies tasted so much sweeter._

_And then the Moledue's were drinking from their goblets and hacking at the salt, obviously trying to do so with dignity which only made it a thousand times funnier. The Moledue's try to wipe their mouths with their napkins and abruptly started sneezing and coughing. Their counseller looked at them in alarm, clearly thinking they had gone insane. _

_Arthur inhaled half of his mouthful of brownie and, eyes watering, tried to regurgitate it as softly as possible as Merlin tried to drag him away from the door. But he'd worked hard for this so he isn't leaving. A servant walked passed with an alarmed expression on her face, making Arthur and Merlin laugh all the wilder as they waved and smiled innocently in her direction. _

_Laughing and coughing, Merlin and Arthur fell over each other as they watched their somewhat petty revenge on the Moledue's. The two smiled like lunatics, smiled like they'll never stop smiling._

**::Merlin::**

Merlin opened his eyes.

He felt empty in an exhausted, sickened way. His room was quiet, the echoes of Arthur and his laughter dying in his ears. It was dark; night had well and truly fallen outside. How long had he been lying here, remembering the past? Dreaming impossible dreams?

Merlin sat up, feet dangling off the side of his bed, and raked his hands through his hair as if he could scrape yesterday from his skull. The magic at his fingertips burnt him and he retracted them quickly, not wanting to go to Arthur smelling of singed hair.

Because of course he is going to Arthur.

Merlin stood, still fully clothed in what he'd changed into after taking off his bloodied shirt and pants the previous day.

Bloodied shirt…reaching up, Merlin touched the bandage on his throat. His eyes flashed gold and his neckerchief flew to his hand. It was one his mother had sewn, he could still smell her if he focused. It made him feel safe. He tied it to his throat, making sure it completely covered his bandages. He wasn't sure why he did this, Arthur knew where he'd cut Merlin after all, but it felt wrong to walk in bandages bared. It felt like it would be an insult to Arthur.

Though, a treacherous part of his mind whispered, Arthur might not take it as an insult…

But that was too scary to contemplate, too possible, too likely.

Merlin crept out of his room, the work room was dark apart from the red light of a few remaining embers in the fireplace; Gaius was breathing soft and slow from his bed pallet. Tiptoeing across the room to the door, Merlin opened it and peered out…then closed it as quickly as was discrete.

Uther was so predictable; he'd done exactly what Merlin had anticipated by posting two sentries down his corridor. (Well, maybe Merlin hadn't anticipated _two _sentries _exactly, _he'd actually thought there'd be many more. But enough of that, focus Merlin.)

It would be a simple matter to walk past the sentries and let them follow him about the castle like reverse-guard dogs (reverse because they wouldn't exactly be guarding _him _would they?) but Merlin wanted to see Arthur in private, not with Uther, having been warned by a shivering, terrified guard that the sorcerer was about, banging on Arthur's door. After thinking for a moment Merlin pulled off his worn, scuffed boots and set them down on the floor. Opening the door he 'walked' them out whilst keeping his eyes half lidded so as to not betray himself with his glowing irises.

One of the guards muttered something and the other leapt so hard at the sight of the empty boots walking seemingly of their own accord he almost gave his beard an unintended trim on his pike. Rubbing his chin, the guard watched the boots walk down the hallway past them. When the boots got to the end the guards, looking at each other for courage, followed with lowered pikes. By their mutterings Merlin could tell they thought he'd made himself invisible, except for his boots.

Do they really think I am that much of an idiot? Merlin wondered, walking the boots around the corner at the end of the corridor. The guards sped up and Merlin crept in the opposite direction. Ducking into a servant's corridor Merlin waited for a few moments then looked down at the sound of soft tapping. His boots walked up to his feet and stopped.

"Did you lose them?" He whispered. The boots tapped their toes gleefully, up-down up-down.

"Good boots," Merlin said and quickly put them on, keeping his balance by leaning back against the wall. Wriggling happily the boots moulded themselves to his feet and were quiet. Merlin touched their soles; how could anyone think magic was evil? (How could anyone think he was evil?)

He continued on his way feeling maybe not happy, but surer of himself in his stance opposing the assertion that magic was evil. Something evil could not be loyal, not like his boots…not like him.

It took longer than usual to traverse the way to Arthur's room both because of the guards he had to avoid and the fact that he wasn't doing his usual walk-run due of being late. When he got to Arthur's room he was relieved and a little surprised to encounter no further guards. He had also apparently lost the ability to open doors.

He wasn't scared of anything Arthur could or would do; he was scared of being hated, he was scared of being feared. And he had done nothing wrong! None of this was his fault! Merlin gritted his teeth. The people and social structure of Camelot was in a state of inequality that had long since been accepted as the norm, so when Merlin came along and fought for peace he was seen to be the upstart, the initiator of the violence!

It was wrong, plain and simple. He had to _remember that. _Merlin may have been the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but his heart was still easily wounded. He had to be careful when fighting for his people and his rights to remember and remind himself that he was worth fighting for. Arthur's opinion could be trusted on many things, but not this. Nothing he said could be taken to heart because if Merlin took it to heart he might just curl up and cry.

Merlin raised a fist, breathed, lowered his fist…raised it again and knocked thrice on the door. There was no answer but Merlin could see the glow of lamp light beneath the door. He knocked again to silence, so he put his hand on the door handle and twisted it open.

Something jammed the door; looking through the crack he'd opened Merlin could see it was a chair. Arthur had done this before and, hence, Merlin knew how to deal with it; he deftly wriggled his foot through the crack and kicked the chair leg. Skidding with an unhappy noise the chair thumped onto its four legs and Merlin swept it away as stepped into the room.

Arthur was standing by his fire, half way through growling 'it's the middle of the night!' to who he thought was a guard or messenger, when he saw it was, in fact, Merlin. Leaning back on the door to press it closed, Merlin looked across at his best friend in time to see his sharply shadowed expression turn thunderous in the fire light.

"Get out of here," Arthur rasped, barely audible.

"Arthur," Merlin couldn't help the reasoning, imploring tone in his voice.

"No," Arthur snapped violently and moved towards him, "you don't get to '_Arthur_' me, you lying, traitorous coward!"

"I never betrayed you," Merlin said firmly, heart fluttering. Arthur gave a snatch of horrible laughter, crowed through bared teeth.

"Never betrayed me? Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"

"I only slept at night because I knew you were safe, and the only way to keep you safe was to keep my magic a secret."

"Oh well then aren't you the martyr, saving the son of the king who kills all of your kind, aren't you just the hero," Arthur's derision and sarcasm dripped like acid and cut like knives.

"Hey," Merlin snapped, incensed now, jabbing his finger at Arthur, "I _did _save you. You saw me stop Mordred, there's no way you can deny that. And if I've saved you once, I've saved you a thousand times. You'd be dead if it wasn't for me!"

"The only reason a sorcerer would have to save a Pendragon would be to gain their trust and slit their throat once they got close enough," Arthur snarled as he yanked a decorative blade from the wall. Merlin had a sinking sense of de ja vu accompanied by a rising sense of defiance.

"You wouldn't think that if you just _listened to me!_ I saved you because we are _friends_; I saved you because that's what friends do!"

"I am not friends with sorcerers!"

"If I wanted you dead I would've just let one of the many attempts on your life succeed! It wouldn't make sense to gain your trust by saving your life in order to kill you."

"Since when have sorcerers made sense?"

Merlin backed into Arthur's table and flinched in surprise at the unexpected contact. He looked down for a second, saw fire and execution, but then realised it was just a candle and the word 'executive' on a document. He looked up, courage rising in this throat like fear.

"That's not an argument and you know it. If you are going to believe all sorcerers are evil you had better be prepared to back it up, but you _can't._"

He was sick of everything, he had given up _so much _for Arthur, so much for this cesspit of a society, and here was Arthur spitting on his face in thanks.

"Sorcerers are murderers! You can't deny that, you've seen them, Morgause, Sigan, Nimeuh!"

"Cenred, Bayard, Uther, none of them had magic and they all…"

Arthur pounced forwards and Merlin scrambled back, heart in his mouth for a moment as he saw the blade held at the ready and felt the mark on his neck pull. His pulse quickened; his magic quickened. The world gasped.

"Don't you say a word against my father!" Arthur hissed through bared teeth.

"Your father," Merlin paused, collecting himself and forcefully ironing the accusatory tone from his voice, "your father lied to you so you would never question the executions…the murders…"

Arthur lashed at him, Merlin ducked behind the bed post. The blade sunk into it above his head.

"That's what they were Arthur and you can't deny it! You've seen him kill hundreds of sorcerers and sorceress and druids who never did anything wrong! You've argued for them before, you've _saved _them before!"

"I have made," Arthur breathed, yanking the blade from the wood with such ferocity as to suggest the bed post had done him a grievous personal wrong, "errors of judgement."

"No, you were courageous; you used your head…and your heart."

The bed and their world views were between them, but Arthur had paused. Perhaps not to listen, but Merlin took his chance whilst he didn't have to multi-task between talking to Arthur and avoiding attempted murder.

"You have a strong code of ethics Arthur, you never entirely believed your father's opinions; there's a reason for that. I know you Arthur. I know you live to make him proud and that you didn't understand why you couldn't agree with him wholeheartedly. It's because he is wrong! I'm sorry but he is."

Merlin moved down the bed to see Arthur clearer. Arthur was watching him with an alien expression on his face.

"Please, you've got to believe me, all I ever did with my magic I did for you. I only ever lied so that I could live long enough to help you. Please Arthur, I haven't changed, I'm still me…I'm still Merlin…"

Arthur's expression closed and became something uglier.

"Stop telling me who you are, I don't care. Why you don't go back to the part where you were saying my father was a mass-murderer."

"I'm not trying to slander his name, or make you hate him, I would never do that," Merlin vowed earnestly. Looking disgusted by Merlin, but listening, Arthur tossed his sword to the side; it gave a metallic crash as it hit the ground with the red and gold of the firelight reflecting from the blade like blood and magic. Merlin watched it go, and then flicked his eyes back to Arthur, taking the gesture however furious and loud as encouragement. He stepped forwards again, Arthur couldn't step back because one of the guest chairs from his desk was behind him. Merlin continued talking; saying the harder things, the things Arthur didn't want to hear, the things as the future King he _must _hear for the sake of the people.

"But you know the truth; stop lying to yourself. You _know_ your father committed genocide."

Arthur moved, a sudden blur of yellow light and blue shadows, and something exploded into the side of Merlin's head and shoulder. He staggered wildly and fell to his side, brain flashing white and red and _agony._

"That's treason," Arthur growled from above him. Merlin looked up, left eye half closed and arm up to hold together his face and jaw, both of which felt broken. In his hands Arthur held the guest chair; Merlin may be an idiot sometimes, but it didn't take a genius to put chair-in-angry-Arthur's-hand together with head-feeling-like-it-had-just-been-run-over-by-a-six-horse-carriage and come to the conclusion that Arthur had just hit him.

"That's the truth," Merlin responded in a thick voice; he'd bitten his tongue. Arthur stepped forwards, looming over Merlin like an executioner, swinging the chair back for more leverage, for a harder hit.

Merlin breathed courage and determination and held the knowledge that he had a _right not to be hurt_ in his heart. He lifted a hand and, hoping fiercely that this was the right thing to do, placed a shield of magic between Arthur and himself. The chair ricocheted off with a gonging sound. Arthur peeled his lip up in disdain,

"That's the truth. For all of your words about peace and the goodness of magic you'll still use it against me."

"I'm not using it against you!" Merlin groaned, incensed with the knowledge that Arthur had attacked him to make him defend himself so he could use it against him.

"It's a shield, it's self-defence. _You _are the one attacking _me_!"

"Magic corrupts," Arthur said maddeningly, as if he'd proved something.

"Power corrupts!"

"Magic _is _power."

"So is being a royal!" Merlin breathed and back-tracked slightly, "the _love _of power corrupts. People who love the power of magic or the sword or the crown become corrupt, not the people who use their power humbly, for the good of all."

"Magic killed my mother!" Arthur yelled.

"A soldier killed my father!" Merlin roared in response.

Arthur opened his mouth to yell, choked, and then forced out,

"I thought you didn't know your father!"

"I didn't. I learnt about him, met him and watched him die all within a few days," Merlin said wearily.

"More lies," Arthur dropped the chair, disgusted, but with a touch of horror on his shoulders.

"That was _private_. You don't get to be angry about that. The point is that magic and swords are just tools, the real good or evil is in the heart of the wielder."

Merlin's face ached from where Arthur had struck it and he felt blood trickle from his nose. He dabbed at it with his sleeve and winced as he continued,

"In all truth, swords can only kill. Magic can kill, but it can also heal. Remember when you were shot by an arrow but I said it hadn't pierced your armour? It had. I tried to heal you but I was never trained in the art of healing. But a fellow magic user heard my efforts and came to our aid and healed you. Have you ever healed anyone with a sword?"

"Is that why you learnt it?" Arthur asked wearily, "To heal people?"

Merlin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, then hurriedly let it go when it smarted in protest.

"I was born with magic, I was born magic."

"You were born with magic?" Arthur said, "You didn't choose it?"

"I chose to learn about it and how to control it, but I did have an unusual amount of control over it without teachings. Magic is like any talent; people are born with varying levels of aptitude but what matters is practise and hard work. Yes, I found it easier than most and I have more than any other, but even people with the least amount of magic would be able to use it if they tried hard enough. Everyone, you and Uther even…everyone has magic."

"Don't say that," Arthur said, looking suddenly unnerved.

"But it's true," Merlin pushed himself to his feet, "and it's not a bad thing. Magic is _not evil. _It is governed by your choices and by who you are. By itself it is just aimless energy."

"Prove it," Arthur's whisper hissed like water on hot metal, "show me."

Merlin moved towards Arthur, holding his breath with an aching chest in hope.

He lifted a hand, remembering the light he'd sent to guide Arthur when he'd been lost, and exhaled gently. The glowing orb lit in his hand, soft and white and blue, shining with kindness and light. But when he looked at it Arthur was staring at the magic like he expected it to turn and sink long teeth into his throat. Merlin's heart jumped, tripped, and fell into his gut.

"Please Arthur," he choked out. Arthur looked up then reeled backwards, for the first time seeing the golden glowing of Merlin's eyes from close up.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried and the light went out, all that was left of him stood lonesome and dark in shadow.

"Get out," Arthur said with a voice of steel and sorrow.

"Please…" Merlin began, but Arthur wrenched his table over. The papers spilled into the fire.

"Get out! Go away and never come back! Is it so difficult for you to understand that I _do not want you here?_"

"Okay, okay," Merlin said, swallowing sobs, lowering his hands into a placating gestured and backing away.

"I hate you! You're a filthy liar; I should have your tongue cut out. That's the punishment people who lie to the crown!" Arthur kicked at his desk again but it could fall no further, "I should have your throat slit, that's the punishment for traitors."

Merlin backed away feeling cold and wounded, "I'm sorry Arthur, I'm leaving Arthur."

But they both knew it wasn't the sort of leaving that Arthur wanted, he wasn't leaving far enough…not that there was any distance that Merlin could put between them that would make anything that had happened okay.

Merlin backed out the door but heard a retching sound coming from the room. He whirled back in with concern in his throat. Arthur had braced a hand against the now horizontal table leg and had bent over, gut working as if he could physically purge himself of his grief. He retched again.

"Arthur," Merlin said and stepped once more into the room. Arthur looked up and his eyes stopped Merlin dead.

"Get out of here, or I swear in the name of Camelot I will cut your throat myself."

Merlin felt a shiver of foreboding. Arthur's eyes watched him leave, like a wounded animal waiting for a predator to turn and finish it off, not trusting that the attack was really over.

**::Arthur::**

"Arthur!"

Arthur looked up, mouth glistening, and met his father's alarmed eyes. It seemed like Merlin had only just left…but that was quite some time ago. Arthur was in flux with his grief.

"What did he do to you?" Uther moved over to Arthur's side, lifting one of Arthur's cleaned shirts from the pile of laundry on his bed to dab against his mouth. It was an uncharacteristically caring gesture from his father but all Arthur could do was close his eyes and avert his head.

"I'm fine."

"Did he curse you? Did the sorcerer poison you? The patrol told me they saw him about the castle. Where were the guards I posted to your door? I'll have their hands cut off for deserting their posts!"

"No father," Arthur said, dragging his mind from the thorns in response to the threat to his people, "I ordered them to leave. To stay would've been an act of defiance to the crown."

Uther gave an ugly sound through his nose and audibly ground his teeth.

"Did you drink anything the sorcerer gave you, or did he force you?"

Uther looked around for a goblet, probably to seize it as evidence. That would, of course, be fabricated, for Merlin was innocent.

"No, father, I…I was in shock. _He _didn't do this to me. It was like my first battle," Arthur remembered it, blood and fear and his first confrontation with mortality. He'd sicked up several meals and then some.

"Are you sure? It could be a trick, a ploy. You should be checked over my Loy."

"Loy?" Arthur looked back at Uther for the first time. Loy was the name of one of the secondary physicians of the lower castle who normally dealt with the medical conditions of servants and other castle staff.

"Yes. You, of course, cannot go and see the physician, Gaius," Uther's voice had the weight of malice in it, "as the man has been harbouring the sorcerer, and still is for that matter."

"Merlin…is staying with Gaius?"

It was so strange because it was so normal. Merlin staying at Gaius', sleeping, eating, having his hurts treated…it was so _human_. So freakishly natural…alarming in its potential to validate everything Merlin had been saying. That he hadn't changed, that he was still Merlin.

"The sorcerer has set up a sort of magical shield. When I led a squadron of knights to arrest the sorcerer and the physician we could not get through," Uther swallowed convulsively. Arthur looked up at his father, feeling like he was emerging from underwater. His mind started working properly for the first time since sometime the day before, or earlier in that day, he couldn't remember what day it was. And as it started working he realised that, of course, whilst he was in his room putting sword to things that could not be slain, people were out there trying to slay other very killable people. People he knew trying to slay other people he knew.

Had the world gone mad?

He kneaded his head with his knuckles; Uther was talking. Focus, Arthur.

"…around the corner of the corridor from the physicians quarters."

"Sorry, could you repeat that, father?"

Uther looked at him with concern on his face, but through his concern Arthur noticed irritation in the scratched wrinkles of his face.

"Are you sure the sorcerer has not cursed you?"

"Yes, I…I've had quite a long day, you surely understand."

"Of course, discovering your servant was a snake in disguise was quite a shock. I was saying that crossbowmen have been posted around the corner of the corridor from the physician's quarters."

"For what purpose?" Arthur frowned. Mild amusement joined the concern and irritation on Uther's face.

"To assassinate them. Of course they are impeded by the sorcerers shield, but it will only take one careless moment on his behalf and he'll be dead," Uther made a final sort of gesture, one hand lashing into the other. Arthur felt sick again, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"But…Me-the sorcerer _did _save us both in the throne room. If he was evil surely he…"

Arthur couldn't continue but Uther had started again anyway.

"If?" Uther turned on Arthur angrily, "if the sorcerer is evil? What is this Arthur? Were you listening to his lies?"

Alarmingly Uther bent over to be at level with Arthur and grabbed his shoulders, making him twitch in surprise.

"Arthur, he'll try to spin stories to you but you _must _remain strong. Magic murdered Ygraine and has tried to murder me and you hundreds of times. Sorcerers have proven that they want nothing more than to raze Camelot to the ground and their madness is evident in their increasingly desperate attacks over the past few years. The sorcerer tried to gain your trust for this reason, to make you doubt yourself. Of course he will sound genuine; he's shown himself to be a highly competent liar over the past years. You _must _remain staunch Arthur, Camelot depends on our strength to combat this menace. Tell me you understand that?"

"I understand, father," Arthur replied; Uther's hands were warm on his shoulders and he gazed proudly down at Arthur. Arthur straightened his spine.

"Now, get some sleep. We'll need our strength in the coming days."

When Uther had left Arthur went to bed. He was certain he wouldn't be able to sleep, but was willing to try for his father.

Turns out he did sleep. He dreamt of slaying dragons with his father.


	3. Chapter 3: I am Emrys

**Damn this is a long chapter. It's setting a bad precedent, don't blame me if not all chapters are 12 word documents long!**

**I'm having some difficulties with the section I am currently writing, but I've got enough chapters between now and then that hopefully I'll get into the rhythm of it before uploading catches up with me. I know what I want to happen, it's just getting there.**

**Oh hey, if anyone's interested, the working title for this story was 'Black horse.' Well, it was more of a code title for any randoms who looked upon my desktop then a working title; it was never going to be called 'Black horse. But still, I find that sort of stuff interesting. **

**Anyway…to the story!**

**Chapter 3.**

"**I am Emrys."**

**::Merlin::**

Merlin had limped into Gaius' workroom as quietly as he could when he left Arthur's rooms. From the safety of his bedroom he had spelled a bucket of water and several clean rags to come to him, along with some of Gaius' salve for bruises.

As, elsewhere in the castle, Arthur had been listening to his father and being looked upon with proud eyes in a warmly lit room, Merlin had been sitting alone in his room, tending to his wounds in the dark. He didn't go to sleep until nearly dawn and woke after a short dream of fire and blood and terror that left him feeling thoroughly un-refreshed.

Merlin lay in bed for a while, wrestling with self-pity, and at the first sounds of movement in the workshop he got up and, exhausted, staggered down to breakfast still in his bedclothes. Gaius looked up from where he was putting the kettle on the fire and flinched so violently he nearly doused the wood with water.

"Merlin! Good grief my boy, what happened to you?"

"What?" Merlin looked around, confused at Gaius' alarmed tone. His body groaned violently in protest to the movement and, wincing, Merlin remembered what had happened the previous night.

Gaius moved over to Merlin and gently touched his hands to the side of the warlock's face.

"Ow, what are you doing?" Merlin pulled away and then hissed.

"You went and saw Arthur didn't you?" Gaius said. Merlin glared half-heatedly in response.

"I can tell," Gaius said sternly, turning Merlin's head this way and that, "you either saw Arthur or a pack of wolves and I don't think we have a pack of wolves at our immediate disposal."

Sighing and tut-tutting Gaius shepherded Merlin to the breakfast/lunch/dinner table and sat him down. He then proceeded to get some salves and push them into Merlin's hands. Gratefully Merlin took them; they were different to the one he had borrowed last night and probably much more effective. The old man then shuffled about and readied breakfast; a job Merlin had been partially taking over before the day before had occurred.

"What did he do?" Gaius broke the silence as Merlin pushed unhappily at his porridge.

"Oh, you know," he attempted nonchalantly, "he hit me in the head with a chair."

Gaius made a rumbling noise in his throat like an angry camel.

"Why didn't you defend yourself?"

"I did."

"Before or _after _he hit you in the head with a chair?"

"…After the first time. I didn't want to do it if he was bluffing!"

"You tried to call his bluff and he hit you in the head with a chair?"

Merlin didn't reply for a few moments.

"Defending myself drove him away. In his current mindset he sees self-defence as a threat. He thinks I might hurt..."

Gaius leant forwards and interrupted with serious eyes.

"He _knows _you wouldn't hurt him. He's a smart man; he _knows _you are not evil. He would've put two and two together and realised magic is not evil. He's in denial."

"Well then I'll just weather it until he stops denying it," Merlin said a little sharper then he intended, wounded and scared at the inference that Arthur might have chosen to hate him.

"You have to defend yourself, Merlin," Gaius said earnestly.

"And I am supposed to do this and just hope he doesn't take it the wrong way?"

"Talk to him, tell him of everything you have done. You can defend yourself and talk at the same time."

Merlin made a little angry gesture in his hands.

"Arthur doesn't work like that."

"Everybody works like that."

"No, you're wrong. You're a physician, a scholar, that's how _you _work. It takes actions, gestures, not words, to convince Arthur of anything."

"You've already done the actions and gestures! You just need to _tell _him about them!" Gaius said, convinced that he was right.

"All I have for those things are my words, it's not enough. I need to _show _him," Merlin stood, food uneaten.

"Where are you going?" Gaius said.

"I'm going to get Arthur his breakfast."

"Merlin!" Gaius said exasperatedly.

"What? Technically nobody has fired me yet."

"Don't you think you are being a little _unwise; brash _maybe?" Gaius put down his cup. "Flaunting magic in Camelot's face won't get you anywhere Merlin."

Merlin's hands twitched angrily but didn't fist.

"I'm not _flaunting _anything! I've been hiding myself for years; living like a regular human being can hardly be called _flaunting_."

"You can't frighten people into accepting you!" Gaius snapped.

"I'm not trying to frighten anyone! I'm going to do what I have _always _done and protect their ungrateful lives. If people are too stupid to pull their heads from the sand and realise I mean them no harm, then that is no fault of mine."

They both frowned at each other, both convinced that they were right and that the other was wrong. Finally Gaius sighed in a frustrated manner.

"I can see nothing I say will change your mind, so I guess I'll go to the library," Gaius said and rose to his feet.

"What?" Merlin said, startled by the sudden tangent.

"Someone has to get the Old Religion texts before Uther thinks clearly enough to have them all burnt, and that someone had better be me. Don't worry, you're spell will protect me," Gaius' lined face softened slightly as he took in Merlin's tensed postured, "I also think if Geoffrey sees that I am saving some of his precious books from incineration we will have an ally in him."

Gaius smiled. Merlin's mouth twitched itself up into a grin. His grin only made Gaius smile the wider and pat his arm, saying,

"Good lad."

"Thanks Gaius…sorry, Gaius."

Sorry for years of forcing him to break the law, sorry for risking his life, sorry for entangling him in all the lies, sorry for not eating the porridge he'd made for breakfast.

"No, Merlin, thank you," Gaius looked old, older than ever before, "if you hadn't come to Camelot…well… you taught me compassion and courage again. Thank you."

Every line of his face was weighted down as if it represented one of the many, many lives he hadn't lifted a finger to save during the purge in the interest of self-preservation. Not knowing how to respond, yet touched by the old man's words, Merlin smiled warmly and magicked the dishes clean and left.

Directly after exiting the physician's quarters Merlin came face to face with a guard. The man gave him a wary look and held his pike slightly aloft. Breathing angrily through his nose Merlin turned and walked away from the guard who strode after him. He didn't clank much thankfully, the noise would've driven Merlin up the wall (and him being a sorcerer meant that the term would be much more literal then it should be.)

However it also meant that when two crossbowmen suddenly jumped out from the end of the corridor and fired at Merlin the guard was not protected against the heavy bolts. He would've died, there and then, if not for Merlin's hand which came slamming sidewards with a flash, magic blocking the bolt a handbreadth from the guard's chest. The other bolt had incinerated mid-air in the magical shield in front of him but he paid no attention to this.

"Your morons! Look where you are shooting would you!" He yelled down the corridor as the crossbowmen ducked, frightened, out of sight.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" He strode to the end of the corridor and looked down to where on either side of the hallway the men crouched behind the wall with unloaded crossbows clutched in shaking hands.

"Did you hear me? You could've killed…hey, what's your name?" Merlin looked back at the guard.

"Ah…Den…" the man shouted back, looking up from where he had been checking himself for crossbow bolts.

"You nearly killed Den! Those stupid bows couldn't kill me. I'm a sorcerer, remember? But you nearly did a very good job of killing your own colleague. And people call _me _an idiot!"

Merlin twisted away and stormed off in the direction of the kitchens. Merlin was so used to a lack of acknowledgement and gratitude that he came as a surprise when from behind him Den suddenly said,

"Thank you."

Merlin looked back at Den, not stopping walking. Den was following in and returning his look, body language wary but expression earnest.

"Thank you."

The world buzzed slightly in Merlin's ears for a moment and his eyes went distant and absent with thoughts. Then he inhaled, refocused on Den, nodded, and they continued on their way.

Merlin's anger had been completely derailed, and he had a funny buzzing sensation in his chest.

_Thank you._

When he actually set foot inside the kitchens the cooks and serving stuff were at a loss as to what to do with themselves. One serving boy left outright, some people just pretended he wasn't there in the hope that he somehow wasn't, the rest stood around looking terrified.

Merlin made his way to the bench where Arthur's platter was set up, looking at the floor not so much in shame as so much as to avoid giving someone a heart attack by making eye contact.

"No…hey, don't touch that!" Den moved from behind Merlin to stand between him and Arthur's food.

"What?" Merlin asked, surprised (and maybe a little dismayed.)

"Don't touch the Prince's food!"

"If I wanted to do anything to it by now I would've done so, but I haven't."

Den blinked unhelpfully.

"I just _saved _your life; I'm not going to hurt anyone!" Merlin twisted on his heel to face the servants with palms lowered unthreateningly, "I don't want to hurt anyone. I have been using my magic to protect Camelot for years. I stopped the gargoyles, I stopped the immortal army, I stopped the dragon. I am not going to hurt you_._"

Nobody moved; Merlin turned back to Den who had his pike lowered. Losing his temper slightly Merlin flicked his fingers and, with a flare of gold, Arthur's plate flew into his hands. There was a huge gasp in the kitchen and blue sparks erupted from his shield where Den had tried to drive his pike into Merlin's gut. Merlin sighed, his irritation dying into sadness.

"Really, Den?" He said softly, eyeing the now white-hot end of the pike, "I saved your life."

Turning away from the man's guilty expression he moved to where the meat was cooking over some coals and carved off a sizeable portion for Arthur; sizeable enough to hopefully put him in a good mood, as pitiful an effort it was.

Merlin moved to the door, Den clumping after him. One hand on the door handle he turned to look at their pale, frightened, _revolted _faces.

"I've saved all your lives," he said, "more than once. Just remember that when you hope I burn," and he proceeded to Arthur's room with the smell of roasted meat in his hands.

**::Gwen:: **

"You're leaving?" Lacy said, entering through the front door of her small house. She had kindly let Gwen stay at her place in the lower town after the 'Moledue incident.'

"Yes," Gwen said, looking up from her packed bags.

"But you said you should lie low for a few days," Lacey put the bread down, looking concerned.

"It will be okay. I work in the castle, I have to go and make sure I'm not needed."

Gwen began pulling on her over-cloak and boots.

"Gwen," Lacey said gently, "it's…you don't have to go, they probably have a lot of people to help around there. You're, we are both just lower staff…it's not exactly like we are vital to the running of the kingdom."

"The nobles have been gone for a few days, now's a time as good as any to go back."

Lacy looked at her keenly, then she looked at her kindly.

"It's Arthur, isn't it?"

Gwen looked up, very surprised. Lacy had been adamant on calling nobles and royals by their proper titles and had been horrified when Gwen had let 'Arthur' slip out in conversation. She'd been horrified again when it happened a second time, and again when it happened a third.

"It's okay Gwen, I'd heard some of the rumours."

Gwen looked at Lacy blankly, would confirming the rumours put her in danger?

"You don't have to say anything," Lacy said, reading Gwen's expression with surprising astuteness, "I can tell. You always call him Arthur, and when we heard about the assassination attempt…well…" Lacy sighed, "I'm surprised you stayed this long."

"He wasn't," Gwen said, casting a look over her shoulder as if she could see he castle through the wall, "and I made a promise…but I've been hearing some things that I don't…I need to go."

Lacey sighed but nodded. She made Gwen a quick breakfast she could eat on the way and gave Gwen the whole roll of bread. Lacey may not understand how Gwen felt about her role in the castle but she was still a good friend. Taking the food from her with one hand Gwen gave her a one armed hug with the other, then left and made for the castle.

**::Arthur::**

Oddly Arthur had been half-expecting Merlin to turn up that morning with his breakfast, so when he did Arthur was already up and half-dressed. The door swung open without the usual clatter but as there had also been no knock the fact that it was Merlin came as no real surprise. Arthur was still angry at him though; angry in ways he didn't understand.

"I thought I told you to never come back," Arthur growled as Merlin entered the room, the guard who had been tailing him following close after. He wasn't a knight; he was just a guard, so Arthur hadn't learnt his name.

"I'm sorry sire, I couldn't stop him touching your food or coming here. I attempted to stop him but he used his m…m…," the man was saying.

"Shut up," Arthur snapped at him.

"Hey," Merlin said firmly, admonishingly. Arthur turned to face him with a withering expression.

"You are such an idiot Merlin."

Arthur had said that before in jest but this time there was no such light-heartedness in his tone. He saw Merlin's face twist in insult but he didn't care, he didn't _care, _(didn't he?)

"You think you can just pretend nothing's happened? That you are still my manservant?" Arthur strode over to Merlin whose expression turned wary, "you think I'll eat anything you've touched? Do you really think I'd eat that?"

Getting within striking distance, Arthur lashed out. He hit the breakfast tray from below to knock it upwards into Merlin's face, but at the last second Merlin's magic shield stopped it. The food bounced off the shield and cascaded onto the floor at the two men's' feet.

"You really think I'd want you to come back to work for me after all that's happened and when you still insist on using magic?"

"No," Merlin responded with a hard voice, tossing the tray to one side, "but people hardly ever want what is best for them. You never wanted an insolent servant to teach you to see other people as people, but I came and you're better off for it. Well now I'm not here as a servant, I am here as a sorcerer, and I'm going to show you that we are people too whether you want to learn it or not."

"What makes you so sure you're right? It's a bit arrogant isn't it, inflicting your views on us?" Arthur said resentfully, aiming to hurt. But Merlin was guarded against him and turned the truth against Arthur.

"What? Like your father has?"

Arthur stepped forwards, hand rising to strike, but Merlin just glared at him unwaveringly and after a moment, teeth and fist clenched, Arthur backed down. He told himself it was because he'd just hit the magical shield anyway and that he didn't back down because he hadn't actually wanted to hit Merlin…again.

"I'm staying," Merlin said; Arthur was startled to hear Merlin's resentful tone, as if Merlin himself was being forced into this situation when really he was the only person who wasn't.

"You will treat me like a dog, you will wish you could beat me like a dog, you may indeed see me, a sorcerer, as some lower being with less emotional capacity then a dog, but I am _staying _Arthur. You, and everybody else in this castle, want me to shrivel up and run away because then I will be easier to hate. It would be easier for you to see me as a dog then a human if I act like a dog, but I won't, because I am a human. My people have been crushed under Camelot's heel for _too long, _it's time things changed."

"I don't need to stay here and get lectured by you," Arthur snapped. He turned and made for the door. He was almost there when he heard,

"Arthur," said resentfully behind him.

He ignored it. He was halfway through the door when the voice said again,

"Arthur…you're pants are on inside out."

**::Gwen::**

"Arthur!" Gwen dropped the basket she'd been given to take to the laundry and threw herself up the steps towards the Prince. Arthur had a furious expression on his face which morphed into surprise at the sight of Gwen.

"Gwen!" Arthur cried out and raced down the steps to meet her. They embraced halfway up the staircase, over Arthur's shoulder Gwen could see Merlin and a guard looking down at the then.

"I heard about the assassination attempt. I was so worried…and your short message didn't help. '_I'm okay, stay out of the castle.' _What happened?" Gwen grabbed Arthur's shoulders and pushed him to arm's length so she could look all over him and inspect for bandages or stiffness or any other indication of injury.

"I'm fine!" Arthur protested as he let Gwen turned him around.

"Are you sure?" Gwen demanded.

"Yes! Yes!" Arthur protested. Gwen sighed and gave him a hug hard with worry.

"Fine, good. You know your pants are on inside out?"

"I am aware, thank you," Arthur said with attempted dignity, but there was an irritated sigh from Merlin's direction and Arthur looked up with barely disguised irritation. Gwen watched the uncharacteristically antagonistic exchange in confusion before returning to more important matters.

"What _happened? _I heard rumours about a sorcerer…"

Above them, Merlin looked down the corridor then said something to the guard. The guard protested but Merlin gestured towards Arthur and Gwen sharply and, seemingly reluctantly, the guard descended down the steps to keep lookout, should anybody appear who it would not be prudent for Arthur and Gwen to show affection in front of, like, the _king. _

"Do you remember the sorcerer boy, Mordred?"

Gwen frowned.

"The boy Morgana, Merlin, you and I snuck out of Camelot?"

Arthur flinched at both of Morgana's and Merlin's name.

"Yes. Well, he decided to repay me for my help by trying to kill the King and me."

Gwen gasped, "But…_why? _You helped him!"

"Who can fathom the minds of sorcerers," Arthur in an ugly voice full of unknown meaning. Up the stairs Merlin's head snapped around to glare at Arthur, and then turned away again to stare down the corridor. Gwen saw this and put voice to her confusion,

"Arthur, what's happened between you and Merlin?"

Arthur gave a horrible laugh; he was trying to sound light but sounded cruel because it was that or broken. Startled, Gwen noticed the corners of Arthur's eyes were red, like he'd been _crying. _

"That's the funniest part, Merlin…Merlin here is a..."

The man in question turned to look at them again. Gwen didn't recognize the expression on his face as he stared at Arthur and she suddenly put that together with the whisperings and rumours and…

"Why don't you tell her, Merlin?" Arthur called with a tightly-controlled voice. Merlin stiffened, straight spined.

"Merlin, what is it?" Gwen asked, apprehensive and afraid about the magnitude of whatever had happened to cause such a rift between the two friends. She looked up into his eyes; there was nothing there to reassure her.

"Go on," Arthur ordered. Merlin levelled a look at him before straightening his shoulders further to turn to Gwen and say,

"I'm a sorcerer."

Gwen gasped in shock but then groaned in resignation.

"I used magic to save Arthur and King Uther. Ever since I arrived I have used magic to protect Camelot," Merlin descended the stairs towards them, "I used my magic to stop the King from executing me or banishing me. I'm staying and doing what I have always done, protect Camelot, until people realise magic is not evil."

"Merlin…" Gwen breathed in amazement; he closed his eyes as though pained.

"I healed your father when he was sick, that's why the king thought you were a sorcerer. I'm sorry."

Shocked, Gwen didn't think and took a small step backwards. Seeing the fear in her eyes Merlin breathed sharply through his nose and looked over her shoulder, eyes unfocused. He looked like he was forcing himself not to run away but his mind was long since fled.

"Merlin I don't…I don't know what to..." Gwen began saying but Merlin's head suddenly turned sharply at something none of them could sense. She was startled into silence by the sudden eeriness that descended. Arthur's hand appeared on her shoulder as though he was read to pull her away from Merlin at the first sign of danger.

"The king is coming," Merlin said, looking back at them. His irises were glowing gold, alien, powerful; Gwen stiffened and instinctively put her hands and arms between herself and the potential threat.

"You should go," Merlin spoke with teeth bared like a pained animal, his voice was rough and Gwen suddenly realised that she had hurt him.

"Merlin," her voice was laden with sorrow and apology.

"Go," Merlin snapped and she drew back, "or the king will be after you as well."

He turned to face down the corridor, face where the king was presumably approaching from; dismissing Gwen with the gesture.

"Go," Arthur said, "I'll find you later."

"Okay," Gwen backed down the steps, the guard was ascending passed her, "take care of him, Arthur."

She was confused and a little frightened of Merlin and hurt by his lie by omission, but not enough that she did not wish he was safe, not enough to negate the guilt of her ignorance and fear.

"He doesn't need anyone to take care of him," Arthur said with a bitter smile.

"Yes he does," Gwen protested; Merlin was gentle and kind and took everything the world threw at him to heart, the good and the bad. But the king was coming and she was out of time and she had to race down the steps and scoop up the dropped laundry, feeling like she was leaving important things unsaid…desperately important things.

**::Merlin::**

The king had come with a legion of guards, once again to try and arrest Merlin. Merlin wasn't having a bar of it. After their little stand-off, Merlin sensed he and the king were going to partake in many of those in the coming days (he couldn't yet think of weeks or months or years, despite the fact that nobody could hurt him he felt it would be over ambitious to look _that _far into the future,) the king had ordered Arthur to accompany him to a council. As always Merlin trailed after him. As a servant it had never mattered that he was present at council's, as a sorcerer it mattered very much that he was present. Particularly because of the topic of the council; it soon became very clear that council was about _him. _

Uther had called a war council; the head knight Leon was there, as were several councillors and generals. Arthur being the second in command of the kingdom should've been second in command of the council, however as the presence of Arthur now also meant the presence of a sorcerer, many, almost a majority, of council members were very vocal about his exclusion. They wanted Arthur to leave so that Merlin would leave. Merlin couldn't see Arthur's expression from where he stood behind him, but he knew Arthur well enough that he would be feeling angry and hurt about this prohibition of him being involved in the running of the kingdom he would inherit.

Merlin wasn't following Arthur to hurt him but to make a point, to prove that sorcerers weren't evil. He wasn't sure if the right thing to do would be to stay or leave but for the sake of their friendship (whatever scraps were left or potentially redeemable) Merlin quietly left during one of the more vocal calls for Arthur's exclusion. Merlin argued to himself that his presence would've made the council expel Arthur which would've in turn made him resent Merlin and would've made the battle to change his mind about sorcery so much harder. However, deep down, voiced by a sincere part of his hear that couldn't lie, he admitted he had done it purely to stop the council from rejecting him.

In defense of his pride Merlin did not sit outside the council room like a dog awaiting it's owner. Nor did he return to Gaius' chambers to hide out of the public eye. He decided to do something productive with his time. Merlin went down to the vaults, enduring the snide remarks, glares and gasps in the corridors as he did so. The men guarding the vaults tried to stop him but his magical shield meant they couldn't get close enough to impede his way so he made it to the vaults relatively smoothly.

He paused at the door to the vault containing magical artefacts and turned to Den, who he had allowed to follow him this far because he had ceased trying to gut him with his pike.

"You should probably stay here, I'm not sure what sort of magical objects will be in here and they may be dangerous."

"What do you want them for, then?" Den asked with curiosity that he was trying to convey as suspicion.

"If they can help me protect Camelot I want to use them. If they pose a risk to Camelot, I want to destroy them."

"How do we know you won't…"

"I've told you and I've shown you I don't want to harm Camelot, why would I go to all of this bother to protect the stupid place if I was just going to unleash a nest of basilisks on them!?" Merlin said in exasperation.

"Basilisks?"

"Nasty creatures, better off without them," Merlin put his hand on the door and let his magic explore the lock and slide it open, "I'm locking the door so you cannot come in, it's too dangerous for someone without magic. If I get in trouble I'll holler."

"If the door is locked what am I supposed to do if you get in trouble?" Den asked apprehensively.

"Probably go and tell Uther and enjoy your promotion," Merlin shrugged and stepped through the door, closed it, and locked himself inside the pitch black vault.

"Légeléoht," he whispered into his palm and a golden light appeared. It was almost like fire, only it didn't flicker or burn hot. He lifted his hand and let it move to the ceiling where it grew into a sheet of light, illuminating the whole room.

The room was both extremely cluttered and extremely dusty. He felt the fluctuating power in it; made him pause for a moment to sought through. After he'd quietened it slightly and was able to identify the different strands of power he set to work, moving towards the more dangerous objects in the room first.

**::Arthur::**

Uther had been the first to notice Merlin's absence and barked orders for him to be located and monitored in case he should attempt to do something nefarious. What with the blatant inability of everyone in the room to so much as touch Merlin without his leave Arthur wasn't sure what his father intended to do should Merlin turn out to actually be doing something nefarious. They could ask him politely, Arthur sarcastically supposed.

But wait, his father was talking, stop thinking about Merlin and listen (listen.)

"We have to find a way to kill this sorcerer. He uses his magic against anybody who tries to kill him, so we need to find a way to get to him around his magic. Baddon," Uther looked at Baddon, a councillor who had unofficial charge of assassinations. Baddon looked up, head swivelling on an alarmingly skinny neck.

"Yes, sire?"

"You have stocks of poisons?"

"Yes, sire."

Arthur jiggled his foot and clenched his hands beneath the desk. His chest felt strange. Across the table from him Leon was frowning into the woodwork.

"Very good. We shall organize the poisoning of the sorcerer. However, should this avenue fail I want multiple plans for his assassination in place"

"Sire," Arthur said and his father turned his gaze on him.

"Yes, Arthur?"

Everyone was looking at him, his father was gazing at him with a '_be quiet' _look in his eyes.

"Nothing, sire."

Uther didn't smile (didn't he?) and turned, dismissing Arthur without a second thought.

"What other options for assassination are there?"

"Sire," another councillor said.

"Yes, Gelygen?" Uther acknowledged.

"Perhaps we could make a pitfall of some kind? The sorcerer may be able to protect himself from all sides, but can he catch himself before he falls and is impaled on some spears arranged in the hole?"

"And if he can, sire," a third councillor said, "it may simply be a case of dragging a cover across the hole and leaving him down there to starve. Do we know how much force his magic can expend? The cover would merely need to exceed this and he would not be able to escape."

"Or just make the cover out of iron," a reedy little advisor said from where he was standing, due to lack of chairs, on the other side of the table, "sorcerers cannot use magic on iron, can they not?"

"Aren't there some iron restraints kept in the vaults, sire," Arthur suddenly burst out, he had no idea why the conversation had put him on edge so much, but it had, "why not merely find them and put them on M- the sorcerer? If sorcerers cannot cast on iron he would not be able to stop us, and then he would be able to be trialled or questioned or anything the crown should desire at our own leisure."

"I believe that is correct, good idea Arthur. If there are no other suggestions I shall lead a party to the vaults to search and retrieve these bindings."

"Sire," one of the advisors said, bowing profusely, "there is the matter of the Waygreen villagers who you were scheduled to meet…" he bowed again, "…in a few moments time, in regards to the disease currently wiping out their winter stores."

"Rechedule them, this takes priority," Uther said dismissively and stood. As he stood a servant rushed forwards and pulled the chair backwards, allowing him to step out smoothly. Arthur stood but didn't move away from the table without his father's leave.

"Sire," he said, "I could find the iron bindings, you need not…"

"No Arthur, a king must prioritize. The protection of this city is more important than the plantations of a small village. Come."

Arthur followed his father's call but couldn't help but think that they were prioritizing killing one person over saving a town of people from a winter starvation.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin had followed his magic through the objects. He could sense powerful curses on some small wooden totems which he incinerated, wood, curse and all, into nothing between his clasped-together hands. There was a metal clockwork grasshopper the size of a mouse with Merlin discovered had small pin-sized knives that flicked out of it's belly. He wasn't sure what it was for, but didn't feel like society would miss it, so he melted that down. He'd just been in the middle of sorting through some old magical texts when he stiffened.

He had just 'heard' through his magic a horrible, angry subconscious buzzing. Why he hadn't realized it before he didn't know and why he had started to hear it just then he didn't know. It took very powerful magic to bamboozle his, so he was immediately on edge. Standing, ancient text on druid magic toppling from his limp hands, Merlin followed his magic with unfocused eyes to a broken set of drawers. On top of it was a sliding pile of rotting paper, some of which he brushed aside to get to the top drawer and drag it open squeaking. The smell of rotting things assaulted his nose and he had to cover his face with one hand whilst with the other he reached inside the drawers cautiously. He touched something cold and smooth that burnt and bit him and recoiled, his magic buzzing angrily in response to the _things _own magic. Steeling himself he reached in and lifted out two thick metal cuffs. It felt it was covered in knives; no matter how gingerly he held them the cuffs were leaving stinging scratches on his palms. His magic washed over the cuffs to inspect them. It tingled as he learnt these cuffs were, in fact, supposed to block magic; as he learnt this he felt the memories imbued within the metal, memories of desperation and fear and screaming and fire. The cuffs were covered in scorch marks…

Merlin dropped them, hands cramping and spasming, and took a shaky step back. His leg, the one that had been cut, slid beneath him on some of the fallen papers and for a moment he was kneeling, fixated on the cuffs whose magic seemed to be turning towards him, grinning, _salivating…_

The door! Merlin's head snapped around as the lock gave a cry and cave inwards. Slamming open the doors and flinching in the unexpected light, two soldiers gave way to Uther and Arthur. Uther's eyes were on Merlin, then they flicked to the drawers, saw they were open, then flicked back to Merlin. His eyes trailed down the sorcerer, wishing him harm, to come upon the scuffed iron cuffs on the floor which had burnt magic scorch marks into the spell bound papers beneath it.

"Step back, sorcerer," Uther snarled, drawing his long, wicked sword from his side and nearly taking out one of the soldiers. Arthur drew his sword as well, then paused and watched the king for guidance. Scooping the cuffs up (biting, snapping, scratching) Merlin turned and faced the king.

"Don't you dare," Uther breathed just as Merlin closed his eyes, creased his face in concentration, and drove his magic through the irons heart. It sheared through them with a ringing snap and each cuff was riven in half. Merlin opened his eyes and saw horror in the king's.

"What are you?" Uther whispered. He'd watched hundreds of sorcerers die with their magic bound and broken by the restraints and couldn't seem to comprehend that Merlin had just destroyed them in front of him with apparent ease. Merlin was also a little scared by the ease with which he had defeated cuffs that were impervious to many peoples magic, but he thought he knew why…

"I am Emrys," Merlin said, his voice echoed in the room.

"Emrys," Uther repeated, hefting his sword and stepping forwards. He pushed the tip into Merlin's shield experimentally; it sparked and held, "what creature are you, Emrys?"

Arthur's eyes were wide, almost comically so, but Merlin couldn't look at him and have courage, facing the king was easier.

"When all of the magicians were executed in the Great Purge there was a lot of magic let loose in the world. This was human magic, not natural magic, so it wanted to be attached to a person. The result of hundreds, possibly thousands, of magicians' magic being loose in the air is me. You made me, Uther Pendragon. You weren't satisfied with understanding and forgiveness and _reason_. You weren't happy unless you were killing and killing and killing. You committed genocide and, hence, gave your enemies the motivation to fight _back. _And not only did you give me the motivation, but you gave them the tool to do so," Merlin threw aside the cuffs, one to either side of him, feeling like he was confronting his own inner demons incarnated in Uther Pendragon. The tip of Arthur's sword made an uncertain circle in the air.

With a shriek, not a war cry, not a yell, an unearthly _shriek _of pure hatred, Uther raised his sword and slammed it down into Merlin's shield. Merlin flinched one hand up and saw Arthur jerk, probably thinking he was going to rain fire and death upon his father. Instead Merlin just pressed his hand to his magic, strengthening it (because though he was Emrys, though he was all powerful, he was still human, and one could not have a blade trying to drive open ones skull without feeling slightly nervous.) Uther shrieked again and slashed his sword across the shield. It rang like a badly pitched bell and Uther staggered, unbalanced and drunk with hate. Lifting his sword once more in a massive overhead strike that, if it hit true, would rend Merlin's body in half in a vertical line from head to groin, Uther used all of his manic strength to bring the long sword slamming down. Merlin's heart shuddered and he pressed more magic into his shiel, but his magic did not let him down. Such was the strength of his magic and such was the strength of the strike that something had to give and the one thing that could did. The blade of Uther's sword exploded into deadly metal shrapnel and it was only Merlin's hyper sensitive magic that made him instinctively still the flying shards mid-air.

One was paused, quivering, in front of one of the guards legs. Two hung in the air before Arthur, one to the right side of his stomach and a second before his forehead in a flight path that would've equalled certain death had it landed. Uther, loomed directly over the explosion, have five dagger sharp metal scraps halted before his chest alone with splinters and slivers so small they were visible only by their shimmering reflections in the magic-light arrayed in front of him like sidewards rain in a high wind.

Merlin inhaled, drawing the shards towards him, then exhaled and they fell to the ground, melting as they went and running into a blob of metal, then a block, then a ball, which cooled and solidified. The ball rolled obediently to Merlin and leapt into his open hand.

"You're hatred is going to get yourself, your men or your son killed someday," Merlin said in a hard voice. He stepped forwards, reaching up to give Uther the ball of metal that was his former sword, but Uther reeled backwards. His mouth forming a hard line, Merlin tossed it lightly to Arthur. As he suspected Arthur's reflexes moved subconsciously and he caught the metal with one hand, rolling it in his fingers as he watched his ex-servant leave.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur marched straight to Gaius quarters once he'd calmed down his father enough to stop him lopping off the heads of anybody who wouldn't be able to protect themselves with a magical shield of air.

It had taken a considerable amount of time.

The guards in the corridor said words he didn't listen to and parted in front of his expression. He slammed the door open so hard the shelves rattled; one vial fell off it and exploded into fine, glass powder on the stone floor.

"Where is he Gaius, where are you hiding him?" Arthur snarled to the startled old man who was reading a thick book by the fire.

"Sire," Gaius began struggling to his feet, trying to keep his page whilst simultaneously needing his hands to help push himself into a standing position.

"After all my father has done for you and this is how you repay him! With betrayal and treachery, I should have you burnt like the sorcerer you are protect…"

"HEY!"

Arthur reeled backwards when Merlin suddenly skidded directly between him and Gaius. Merlin had been close enough to touch, to _kill_.

"You! You embarrassed me; you embarrassed my father in front of his…"

"You _never _threaten Gaius!" Merlin's eyes were blazing with a light far stronger than any magical gold.

"You aren't even listening…" Arthur snarled, stepping forwards. But then Merlin was stepping forwards too and he was _taller_ than Arthur had ever seen.

"You _never,_" Merlin's voice was so intense it shook with effort, "threaten Gaius. Do. You. Understand?"

"Merlin!" Gaius by now had risen to his feet; Arthur looked at the old physician and noticed the alarm on his face as he looked at his ward. Merlin's gaze snapped across to Gaius as if making sure he was okay, like the old man may have been physically harmed by Arthur's words somehow.

"You're traitors, the both of you," Arthur said, trying to sound firm as he took a step away from Merlin.

"I'd rather be a traitor to a bad cause then loyal to it," Merlin vowed in a voice of steel, a vow to which Arthur had no answer.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen had been anxious since she'd seen Merlin that morning to see him again. She was just getting ready to finish off her servant duties for the day when she heard two of the male servants gossiping about how the prince and the sorcerer had been heard having a massive row in the physicians quarters. The prince had stormed off but not a peep had been heard from the sorcerer or the physician.

Gwen thought for a moment, then found a piece of paper and scrawled a note on it. She'd seen Arthur's signature before on documents on his desk, so she knew what it looked like. At least it would be accurate enough to fool the guards at Gaius' quarters. She felt bad about taking advantage of her knowledge of Arthur's signature but if she used Uther's (which she actually knew) there would most definitely be trouble. At least she could trust Arthur to cover for her if he heard about it.

Using her body to hide what she was doing from her fellow servants she quickly got one of the silver platters for royal feasts out of one of the cupboards and whisked out of the room. On her way to Gaius' and Merlin's she folded the letter neatly and placed it on top of the tray with 'The Physician' written on the fold of the paper facing upwards.

When she arrived at the corridor the two crossbowmen at the start barely acknowledged her, too busy in their game of cards. The knights paid her more attention, but didn't even ask to look at the letter, probably worried if they did so the prince would take offence or see it as insubordination.

"But there's a magic seal on the door," one of the guards informed her, "you won't be able to get in."

"I'll tell them I have a letter from the prince, maybe they will unlock it."

"It isn't safe; you should slide it beneath the door," the guard said anxiously.

"I am under the protection of the prince," Gwen said, trying to sound confident. She then moved to the door and called through it,

"Physician, open this door, I have a letter from the prince for you."

There was a pause; she tried not to look in doubt of her plan.

"Physician," she called again after a moment.

She heard through the door a muffled 'it's Gwen' then, "The door will open."

Giving the guard who looked on the verge of passing out from shock a small smile Gwen pushed open the door and wondered if she was imagining the tingling in her palm. She closed it behind herself and came face to face with Merlin and Gaius.

"Gwen!" Merlin cried happily, wringing his hands, but Gwen put a finger to her lips, balancing the tray with one hand with the skill of a servant.

"Can you put something on the door so the guards cannot hear us?" She asked, voice trembling slightly in trepidation of the very magic she was requesting.

"Oh, yeah, course," Merlin said, distracted, and flicked a hand at the door. His eyes glowed shocking gold and Gwen gasped.

"Sorry," he said suddenly and backed away, trying to give her space but bumping into the table and overturning a chair in his rush.

"No, no, I was just a little startled, that's all," Gwen discarded the silver tray and letter on one of the herb shelves. It went without saying that it had been a ploy; neither Gaius nor Merlin paid it the slightest of attention.

"Your eyes, do they always shine like that?" She asked, not entirely sure if this was a polite thing to ask a sorcerer. Emboldened by her curiosity, Merlin smiled.

"Ever since I was a baby."

"You did magic as a _baby_?" Gwen was astounded.

"Yeah," he said, turning to right the chair so that Gaius could go to the bench and make some tea. Gwen noted he righted it with his hands.

"I didn't know that was possible," Gwen admitted.

"Well, really it happens to everyone. See, everyone has a little bit of magic. Often it's so small when they're young they can't even access it with training, but as they get older if they are taught to they can reach it. I, however, have…ah…a lot more magic than most people, so I could access it very early on."

"You have more," Gwen moved to the table and she and Merlin sat opposite each other, "how much?"

"Um," Merlin had a strangely bashful tone in his voice as he evasively responded, "quite a lot."

"Why on earth did you come to _Camelot _of all places?"

"It's complicated but, in short, my town didn't, er, want me anymore. Mum, ah, that is, my mother didn't know what to do with me. She knew Gaius and knew he had once practised magic so she thought he could teach me control. Only catch was he lived in Camelot. It was only supposed to be temporary but things got a little…out of hand."

Gaius handed him a cup of tea, then slid a second cup to Gwen. They thanked him and he made his way over to the fire to try and give them some privacy. A small lull fell over them and Merlin quickly took a sip of tea that scalded his tongue.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gwen asked softly, then quickly added, "I mean…I know there are a lot of reasons, I just want to know which ones were yours."

"It wasn't that I thought _you'd _betray or anything, I just grew up never knowing how somebody wouldn't, you know? And if you knew it might put you in danger…" He gulped more tea, Gwen hadn't touched hers yet.

"It must've been lonely," she said softly. He gave a weird, out of place laugh and tilted his head. Gwen looked at him.

"It must've been scary…"

"It was terrifying," he gave a horrible light laugh which morphed into a gasp wrenched from deep within him.

"Merlin," Gwen said, reaching for him.

He stood abruptly and stepped back.

"Sorry, just a minute," he twisted away to hide his face. Gwen stood quietly and moved to his side. Gaius shook his head at her, 'give him space' he mouthed, but Gwen thought that Merlin had had more than enough space to last him a life time. A person like Merlin who she knew, despite all she didn't know about him, loved people and thrived in friendship would've been suffocating in the vacuum he had recently been trapped in, had been trapped in since he was born. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he flinched away, but she followed the action, placing her hand on his back so he knew she was there, that she wasn't afraid or repulsed by him.

"I've never actually told anyone before, it's really weird…people knowing," he sounded so sad, his attempt speaking about that which was visibly ending him in a light tone only making it worse. Gwen hugged him. It was clumsy as he was still facing away from her and he was 50% elbows, but she did. He was stiff and didn't respond for a moment but then he turned towards her and fell into her embrace. Surprised, Gwen ran her hair through his hair; her mother had run her hands through Gwen's hair when she was a child to make her feel safe.

Gwen wondered when the last time was that Merlin had felt safe.


	4. Chapter 4: Insidious

**Hello lads and lasses, **

**How are you all? I hope you are all good.**

**Here for another chapter of 'Until Forever Ends,' or the incredibly uncatchy acronym 'UFE' which shall be referred to never again (apart from to say 'hey, how much did that acronym stink?' which is, of course, great conversation.)**

**Still having difficulties with the chapter I am currently writing, but with a bit of exploration and rewriting I think I've found a way to grasp it. **

**Also, I'll just apologize now if any chapters are late or if in uploading I catch up with myself and have to upload slower. This is a possibility as my computer has the technological capacity of a tree, meaning won't work in firefox and will only work sporadically in internet explorer. Word crashes too sometimes, just to keep life interesting. **

**And with that I leave you to read the chapter.**

**Enjoy! *Elaborate flourish in the chapters direction.***

**Chapter 4. **

"**Insidious"**

**::Arthur::**

Arthur felt like his life was gradually becoming nothing more than a series of battles with Merlin. Merlin would not let anybody hurt him nor would he consent to leave. The only course of action Arthur saw available was to try and drive him away, which did not appear to be working so far. Admittedly Merlin stopped the bur-on-Arthur's-clothing act he'd started with; he had relented and stopped taking Arthur his food and didn't dog his steps to council meetings.

Knight training did not recommence for three days after the revelation that Merlin was a sorcerer, they were too busy running around setting increasingly elaborate yet continuously ineffective traps for Merlin on Uther's orders. Merlin still made himself present a lot and continued to try and convince Arthur of his past as of yet unproven deeds but every now and then he would disappear.

One of the very few (if not only) benefits of Merlin revealing himself to be a sorcerer was Uther's newfound appreciation of Arthur. Arthur's relationship with his father was thriving, nourished on a mutual antagonism towards the resident warlock. However at night when doubts are at their strongest, in their natural element of the dark, Arthur wondered what sort of relationship it was when it thrived on hatred and fear. In fact, Arthur was so busy hating Merlin and trying to understand his father that he was caught completely off balance the first time he watched Merlin save Camelot with magic.

**::Merlin::**

Gaius had been doing his physician rounds in the lower town with the very few people who would still see him despite him being implicated with Merlin. Merlin was surprised as many as a 'few' people would do this, but then when he saw the types of medical concoctions and equipment Gaius was packing and learnt where in town they were going he realised why this was. Gaius was the person qualified who was generous enough to treat the poor people who needed advanced medical treatment with a reduced charge, no charge if he could manage it.

Ghosting his hands over Gaius' tools, Merlin asked, "Do you need some help with this, Gaius?"

Gaius looked up in surprise.

"What about Arthur?" Gaius asked.

Merlin frowned and looked determinedly at the equipment, lining it up meticulously with his fingers.

"I am not helping Arthur, I don't know how. I don't know what I am doing wrong. I think you were right, I think he already knows…everything…he just won't accept it, and I can't _make _him. I want to help people…is there anyone I can help?" Merlin looked up at Gaius pleadingly.

"I wouldn't want to draw Uther's anger upon the townspeople," Gaius said, "but if you block the path of the guards and we take the back alleys we should be able to get to and from their houses without being identified."

"I can put a charm on their houses just in case; if they are in trouble I'll know, like the one I put on Ealdor."

"What was the charm did you put on Ealdor?" Gauis said.

"Just a light charm so that if anybody from Camelot tries to go to Ealdor to hurt my mother I'll know."

"Where is the charms location?"

"Just the roads and wild land between Ealdor and here."

Gaius looked impressed.

"Your magic has gotten even more powerful. It requires a lot of energy to cast spells on geographically distant places, even more to sustain them."

"It has felt stronger ever since I revealed myself…I never quite realised how much hiding it had suppressed it," Merlin responded, twiddling a golden spark on his fingers absently.

Gaius bustled over to Merlin holding a small bag containing several packets of various medications.

"In that case, you should be able to get us to the patients _very _discretely. Come on then," he said, "let's go."

Merlin was able to sneak them out with ridiculous ease. They stuck to the back alleys as Uther's soldiers were combing the streets; they had been doing so for several days, Merlin wasn't entirely sure why as Uther had known he was _in_ the castle.

The patients they needed to see, being poor and desperate, lived in the backwaters of the lower town. Merlin and Gaius moved through the streets nondescriptly. Not many of the people recognized them; those who did look at them with some familiarity only recognized Gaius from previous visits. The story of the prince's manservant revealing himself as a sorcerer had spread down to this region of town, but inhabitants of this region of town had hardly ever seen him, so Merlin was just a tall, black-haired boy helping the elderly physician nobody wished any harm to. Gaius had stopped various sicknesses before they could run their course through the populace which meant more to the people then a reward Uther would pay for their information on his physician. It was money or health, and if they weren't healthy they couldn't use their money, so Gaius kept their loyalty.

The place smelt rancid, of unwashed bodies and unwashed streets. Merlin subtly let a fine trickle of magic fall from his fingertips and slither unseen away to clean the streets and kill diseases he could feel manifesting themselves there.

"I never really knew…" He whispered to Gaius.

"I know, my boy, I know. It's one of the costs of cities. People cannot grow their own food, so when they end up at the bottom of society they are stuck. They cannot leave for they do not _know _how to survive on their own but in staying they get pushed only lower."

Finally they arrived at a shabby lean-to. A small girl in a plain shift was standing at the door, waiting for them. She recognized Gaius and let him in. Merlin followed the physician, feeling the girl's eyes follow his progress.

"Gaius," a woman said, looking up from where she was seated at the end of a bed. Lying on the bed was another small girl. Too small; quiet and still like no child should ever be rendered.

"Who is that?" She said, seeing Merlin and standing. Merlin saw a kitchen knife stuck through her belt and wondered what had happened to these people that they needed to carry weapons in their own homes.

"This is my ward, Merlin," Gaius said tentatively. The woman drew the heavy knife.

"I'd heard of the rumours about you, Gaius, and I'd heard of a sorcerer in the castle by that same name," she said; despite having bared the knife at them she showed no fear, though she beckoned her healthy daughter to her and moved in front of her.

"I've told you about him before, Glennis, he's a kind boy who means no harm," he said placating. Merlin had his palms opened flat towards her, loose at his side, and tried to appear unthreatening.

"Nobody knows we are here, the king won't come for you," Gaius said gently, slowly unpacking his physician's bag on the table.

"I can't ask you to leave, Lea is too sick, but you should not have brought him Gaius, magic means us harm whether the boy does or not," Glennis said, glaring at Merlin. Merlin stepped forwards to the table; eyes lowered, and touched it with one finger. The table rattled slightly and Glennis tensed, forcing her daughter to stay behind her when the girl would've looked around in curiosity.

"The table will carry no diseases now," Merlin said, "no matter what you put on it or how long you go without washing it, the wood will always be clean."

"Magic is cursed," Glennis said, looking between Merlin and the table and back again.

"Please Glennis, would I bring something cursed into your home? I've been coming here for years, I care about you and your children, do you honestly believe I would bring something I believe to be dangerous?"

"I don't Gaius, but just because I trust _you _don't mean I have to trust _him._"

Merlin sighed and backed towards the door; the woman watched him go before letting Gaius move towards her daughter.

As Gaius set to work over small Lea, Merlin gazed about the house. It reminded him of his mother's house, though he saw what Gaius had said about city people not making their own food. Hunith's house had seeds and potted plants and gardening equipment unlike this house. Leaning over, Merlin picked up a small wood chip off the ground. The charm flowed out of him and into the wood like water and when he pressed it to the door frame it stuck there.

Gaius and Merlin were received with the same attitude as Glennis in every patients home; resentfully, grudgingly, but tolerating Merlin's presence due to their requirement of Gaius' medical expertise.

The turn of morning into afternoon found them in their fifth patient's home; these patients were also women. Merlin had noticed that all of their patients so far had been women or children whose mothers had appealed to Gaius for help. He asked Gaius why this was and Gaius had told him about how not only were they subject to being disadvantaged because they were poor, but women were lower still. Due to the nature of Camelot's society the women were less educated and had little to no control over the meagre wealth of their families. They also had little form of income as the jobs that went to the desperate were those of manual labour and labourers never wanted to hire women, no matter how strong they were, because they couldn't see past their belief that men were always stronger. Merlin had never before appreciated the complexities involved in being poor.

The fifth patient was Nora who had contracted several diseases during the previous year's winter and was being cared for by her sister Nelly. The fact that Nora had been sick for so long caused Gaius great concern; Merlin learnt this by the expression of the physicians face when he explained the patient's record before they entered the house. Gaius was in the middle of treating Nora, checking her temperature and whether the current medication was working, when Nelly sidled up to Merlin. Merlin had been standing out of the way, by the door, ready to leave if the residents asked him to.

"Merlin, is the name?" Nelly asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Merlin replied, surprised at being treated like something other than a vicious dog Gaius had chosen to bring on his rounds.

"You've got," Nelly looked around and pulled Merlin away from the doorway, deeper into the privacy of the house, "magic, don't ya?"

"Yes," Merlin affirmed, even more surprised. Nelly rubbed her tired hands together and continued speaking in her oddly clunky way.

"A while ago a man came for my sister, he said t'ey were married but Nora'd never mentioned him, and she would've if she'd had. When I blocked te door with te shelves, he said he'd get a hedge-wizard friend o' his ta put a nasty jinx on my home. He waved his arms and said some words t'at made te hairs on my arm stand up, but I don't know what te jinx was sapposed ta do. Could you check for me."

"Certainly," Merlin straightened, "where was he facing when he cast the jinx?"

"Front o' the house," Nelly said, "but don't go do magic on me front door, the whole town will be cursing us if they know a magic-persons was here."

"That's okay, I can check from in here," Merlin replied.

He moved to the front wall and placed his hands on it. His magic entered the wood quizzically and almost immediately found the jinx. The jinx was so small it seemed to take one look at Merlin's magic, mutter an 'eep' and pop out of existence.

From across the room, Nora gasped and opened her eyes.

"Nora!" Nelly cried, rushing over to her. The prone woman rubbed her face wearily.

"What did…Merlin, what did you do?" Gaius demanded, seeing Merlin's guilty expression. Merlin gestured at the wall.

"There was a sickness jinx in the wall, I erased it."

"Hmm," Gaius said, still eyeing Merlin with promise of future scolding for not warning the physician he was about to use his magic. He turned back to Nora and re-examined her. Merlin and Nelly waited silently for his verdict.

"You are still ill from your winter sickness."

Merlin's shoulders slumped and Nelly turned on him angrily, but Gaius wasn't finished.

"However your temperature is feeling better and your breathing is less laboured. The jinx may have been too weak to work on somebody healthy like Nelly, but being sick at the time of the casting you would have had lower resistance. The jinx probably amplified the sickness and was one of the primary causes for you not getting better. If this is correct and you continue with my prescribed treatment you should take a turn for the better now that the jinx isn't impeding your healing."

"Thank you," Nora said weakly to Gaius.

"Don't thank me, thank Merlin. He is the one who broke the spell."

"Thank you, Merlin," Nora said softly, smiling up at him. Merlin nodded, a responding smile appearing on his face before he had realized it.

"That was amazing!" Merlin said as he and Gaius left the house. They were going to eat lunch; Nelly had offered them food but, knowing the women had very little, Gaius and Merlin declined. Gaius had packed himself a meal anyway, which he halved with Merlin whilst standing in the shade of a back alley.

"I have to learn to heal, I mean, just breaking that jinx helped so much. I want to do _this _with my magic Gaius, I want to _help _people," he gestured expansively with a half-eaten apple in one hand, nearly clonking Gaius over the head with it.

"Stop waving that around," Gaius admonished with a smile. "Once this business with the king and the prince has settled down you may be able to find a teacher. The druids know much healing magic; you could go to them and receive teachings."

"But who knows how long it will take for things to 'settle down,'" Merlin sighed, "I don't even know if things will settle down."

"They will. You've got your entire life to learn how to heal, Merlin. Have patience until the time comes."

"Okay, okay, I just feel like I spend my entire life waiting for…" Merlin paused and looked up. He would've looked like he had frozen stiff but Gaius could see his head turning almost imperceptibly back and forth, as if listening from either ear with his magic.

"What is it?" Gaius asked, frozen staring at Merlin alertly.

"Trouble," Merlin responded with still-distant eyes, "trouble in the castle."

Merlin took two steps out of the shadows and into the bright sunlight then paused and looked back at Gaius. Gaius was bending with the speed of an old man, that is to say very little, to pick up his bag.

"I need to…"

"Go, go!" Gaius said.

Merlin turned and ran, hearing behind him Gaius give a final,

"Go, Merlin."

**::Arthur::**

The king and Arthur were in the throne room inspecting the repairs done from when the sorcerer had come and destroyed half of it when Merlin burst into the room. Arthur looked up as the doors banged open and felt a rush of de ja vu as he saw Merlin standing there, hands outstretched between them. Merlin's eyes were darting around the room. Initially Arthur thought Merlin was looking for him but his eyes only lingered momentarily on the Prince before sweeping away. Uther was yelling, standing up before his throne, ordering guards and soldiers and death, but Arthur looked closer at Merlin's face. It was the first time Merlin had been in his presence without being totally focused on the Prince, which told Arthur there was bid trouble.

"Something is coming," Merlin said sharply.

There was so much noise in the room of yelling and the drawing of swords that he must have used magic to cut his voice through it all. Arthur's eyes narrowed and he looked up at his father, waiting for his reaction. Uther drew breath and continued to yell…Arthur couldn't tell what…with a vein pulsing in his head (but not drawing his sword, he'd already embarrassed himself once.)

"Get down!" Merlin suddenly yelled, dropping to the ground. Nobody was inclined to do as he said but a split second later Arthur felt a force pressing him down to his knees, was this it? Was Merlin finally making his bid for supremacy? Uther was straining against the force that was pushing him flat to the ground; the floor beneath the throne was raised and to get as low as Merlin was bending Uther and Arthur had to be fully flattened on the ground. Merlin was pushing them down, shaming them, humiliate-

Suddenly a wave of horrific heat blazed across their heads and a gonging noise reverberated through the room. The top of the stone throne was sheared away at, if Uther had been still standing, chest height. It toppled backwards and crashed to the floor. Merlin was racing down the hall bent over but uncurling and lifting his hands. Like a loud noise fading the heat over Arthur's head lifted away and as Merlin's magic released him he rolled and sprang to his feet.

"No!" Merlin yelled but was drowned out by a sudden screeching.

Then the boy druid was standing in the middle of the room where the noise had been, echoes dying around him.

It was like a reversed tableau, Mordred stood by the doors where Merlin had last faced him and Merlin stood between the druid and the throne. Mordred looked immediately put out after appearing despite having just re-demolished the room he had demolished a few days ago.

"You're still here then," Mordred said, glaring at Merlin reproachfully. Merlin adopted the fighter's stance not of a knight but of a sorcerer; one hand was raised, the other held at his side out from his body, which was leaned towards his foe.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"I was hoping you'd be a head shorter by now," Mordred took a step forwards, probably to stride arrogantly down the hall like he owned the place, but Merlin's eyes blazed gold and the boy stopped.

Mordred curled his lip.

"I'd still be taller than you," Merlin snapped. Arthur didn't know if he meant it metaphorically or literally, but either way Mordred took offence. His hands lashed forwards and a bolt of white-green light writhed towards Merlin. Hands snapping up Merlin _pushed _the force downwards to skid towards him on the floor leaving scorch marks to his feet, where it disintegrated. Then suddenly Merlin took a violent step and said words that seared in Arthur's ears like fire and a golden light slapped into Mordred. Mordred span with a whistle and the light flicked off, flying into the walls and disappeared in the shadows. Arthur drew his sword, readying to sneak around behind Mordred or, if given an opportunity, outright charge at the aggressor, but Mordred's eyes were drawn to the flicker of movement and upon seeing Arthur glaring at him around the naked blade he threw his head back and laughed.

"You think you can hurt me with steel? You think you can touch me with a sword?" Mordred spat, his words somehow hanging in the air and twisting into red fire that sprang at Arthur. Skidding between the fire and the prince Merlin drew a white circle in the air, which somehow hovered there like a drawing on a paper, and the fire vanished within it. Snarling, the druid's hand shot out at Uther and he spoke flying words of the old religion. Merlin cast a shield but it wasn't the sort of spell that could be blocked by a mere barrier. Snapping around Arthur cried out as he saw Uther clutch at his head in agony.

"Father!" Arthur scrambled across the stairs and raced towards his father. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Merlin conjuring shield after shield but to no avail. Then suddenly blinding pain struck Arthur in the skull and he lost his feet, crashing to the ground. His face struck the stone sharply and blood ran from his mouth, but Arthur didn't heed it. He curled on his side, strangling a scream, as he felt the claws of Mordred's magic scraping across his brain. Arthur's eyes were closed but his vision flashed pain-red, Pendragon-red, and he was going to be sick and he was being sick but his teeth were seized closed in agony and he was going to strangle and drown and die!

Then it vanished and his vision went grey with relief and Arthur could open his mouth and spit out the bile and blood. He could breathe again. There was a distant yell and a flash of sound; Arthur uncurled himself to see his father. Uther had one hand on the throne as if he was trying to drag himself up, but he was looking sick and dizzy and disoriented but _alive_.

Arthur turned his head; feeling like his brain was left behind slightly, to see Merlin with gold flying from his hands like streams of water. It was raining down on Mordred and running across the floor and coming up beneath him. It gave off a blazing white light and something inside Arthur understood the gold magic's intention. It was screaming DEFEND and hammering down on Mordred with the strength of love.

Mordred gave a cry and just like that, just like last time, there was a shriek of a gale and he vanished into thin air from where he stood.

Merlin was rocking on his feet as though he wasn't confident the attack was over. After a moment he twisted on his heel and looked back into Arthur's eyes. There was unmistakable worry and concern in his eyes. Arthur rolled onto his back and tried to deny that Merlin had just saved his and his father's life.

Again.

His ears were ringing and mutters began with the room's occupants who were uncurling from varying states of the foetal position.

Merlin hadn't just saved his life…

(Only he had.)

…

"He saved us!"

"It was a trick."

"A trick? He _risked his life_ to _save us._"

"The sorcerers are probably allies."

"They almost killed each other!"

"But they didn't."

"Father, it wouldn't make _sense! _If they were working together to bring down the throne they would've just killed us, not made some façade about Merlin protecting us!"

"Don't say his name! It's all a trap!"

"But it doesn't make _sense!_ It's not _logical; _all of the evidence indicates you're _wrong._"

There was a long pause.

"So that's how it is. When exactly did you turn, Arthur?"

"What?"

"When exactly did you side with the sorcerers against me?"

"What? No, I'm not…I'm on _your _side."

"It doesn't sound like it. It sounds like you are trying to excuse sorcery, which I have told you is evil."

"But…why is it…why do you believe magic is evil?"

"I do not merely believe magic is evil, I _know _it."

"Fine, how do you _know _magic is evil."

"It killed your mother. Or doesn't she matter to you anymore?"

"She does matter, father! But…couldn't that murder have been the act of a single person?"

"You've seen them! They've tried to bring Camelot down ever since it was built! Sorcerers are power-hungry murderers; sorcerers are all cowards and thieves."

"But those people are still only a small representation of an entire people. The druids! They never try to fight us! They live in peace!"

"Cowards, cowards! The lot of them!"

"Father, you call them evil if they attack, cowards if they do not, you don't even give them the chance be good people."  
"That's because they are not."

"How can you know?" Arthur demanded, suddenly angry at his father's stubborn, nonsensical replies.

"You haven't yet made a convincing argument to back up what you are saying, and you're not listening to any evidence that could prove you wrong."

"They killed your mother; they would've killed all of us if they were given the chance!"

"They've had the chance! For years Merlin has had the chance and he has not harmed me once!"

Uther struck Arthur, his ring scraping across the prince's jaw; Arthur staggered back but didn't think once about raising a hand to defend himself. He stood lonely before his father, face turned away, opening and closing his aching jaw.

His father looked at the blood on his ring, then stepped forwards and, methodically, hit Arthur again. The ring opened a second tear in his face even though Arthur flinched away from his father. Blood ran from it, mingling with the dry blood at the corner of his mouth from earlier. Then Uther was coming at him again and Arthur was trying to dodge back but Uther had grabbed his shoulders and pulled him forwards (don't hurt me) into a hug.

Arthur froze in fear…surprise, he froze in surprise.

"I'm sorry Arthur," Uther said, sounding genuinely regretful, "I fear the sorcerer is infecting you against me."

"No, it's…Merlin did nothing, I'm thinking for myself," Arthur babbled, bleeding onto his father's shoulder, "I just…the evidence…"

"I have made my points, they are logical Arthur, the sorcerer has spelled your mind so you cannot understand what I am saying."

"What? No he hasn't!" Arthur protested, trying to draw back to look into his father's eyes, but Uther's hand was on the back of Arthur's head, holding it to his shoulder.

He bled some more.

"He has, you don't understand Arthur, you don't understand. Please, trust me," Uther let Arthur draw back to look into his eyes.

"Please, trust me."

Arthur looked into his father's eyes, his cheek was stinging and stinging. His father had hit him…his father had said _sorry_…

"I don't…" His cheek stung.

"Please, Arthur, listen to me. The sorcerer has spelled you so you cannot see his evil. You must rely on me, as only I can see the truth of what he really is. You must trust me. Have I ever led you wrong before?"

Arthur's face was hurting, his head was wringing, his heart was pounding. It would be so much easier to listen to his father. His father had been leading him his entire life and it was only by following that Arthur could please him. And Merlin had lied, Merlin had hurt him, Merlin had used him.

"Trust me."

"Okay father, okay."


	5. Chapter 5: The plan

**Hello again lads and lasses,**

**The story continues!**

**I've gotten more into the groove of the part I am writing. My goal is to not have any delays uploading this story every Wednesday (or, again, whatever Wednesday equivalent it appears in your country) unless of course I get mauled by a giant badger, or even a normal sized badger, though this is improbable.**

**I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has written a review. Your support and interest is emboldening. I'll try to get better at answering reviews; it's more of a technical problem though. My computer has issues with ...and the rest of the internet, if I am being honest. Nonetheless I shall attempt to wrestle this contraption into obedience, much like Arthur wrestling a dragon (or a bit unlike it, Arthur could never successfully win a wrestle with a dragon, unless it was in an egg, and I am aiming for a bit more success!)**

**Also, shout out to everyone following this story. I was gratified that there was so many of you! I spent a good deal of my time last week being fascinated by the internet. I mean, I'm in Australia, and if the statistics page is telling the truth many of you are not in Australia, which I find fascinating. Not in a cave-man-technology-blew-my-tiny-unevolved-mind, more of a 'there are people reading this story in countries I have never been to' sort of way. This may sound like the same thing but…you know…hey look, a distraction!**

**Anyway, enough of me attempted a one sided existential discussion,**

**On with the story!**

**Chapter 5.**

"**The plan."**

**::Merlin::**

"I used to fantasize that Arthur…okay wait, fantasize is the wrong word," Merlin backtracked. Gwen squealed and 'Oooh'd' at him. Merlin threw half a muffin at her head.

"No, shut up, I used to…daydream? Hey, stop laughing! You know what I mean; I meant…I did not _fantasize _about Arthur!"

Gwen tried to regain control of her giggles.

"Sorry, sorry, I believe you, it's okay, I totally believe you. Do tell me about how much you didn't fantasize or daydream about…hey!"

More muffin landed in her hair.

"Gwen!" Merlin's voice went up too many octaves for any sort of dignified communication.

"Okay, I'm teasing you; I'm sorry, go on."

"What I was going to say was that I used to _hope _that Arthur would understand when he learnt about my magic. And let's just remember that out of the two of us the only one was has made out with Arthur or ever _wanted _to make out with Arthur is _you._"

Gwen laughed and threw muffin back at Merlin, who caught it and popped it into his mouth. Laughing some more Gwen leant back onto her arm and looked up at the clear, sunny sky.

"So I suppose things haven't quite played out as you had planned?"

"Not really, no," Merlin sighed. Gwen tipped her head forwards to look at him.

"Oh, don't worry Merlin, he will come around. He came around about me, remember? For the longest of times I was just a servant and I would only ever be a servant. But now…well."

She smiled conspiratorially.

Merlin sighed again and flopped onto his back in the grass.

"Yeah…I just…I hope he comes around before...I dunno."

The trees surrounding them shaded them nicely; their trunks were dense enough and the place was so devoid of other people that it could almost make them forget that they were in a park in the middle of the Camelot and make them think they really were having their picnic in the middle of a forest. A forest where the sound of spruikers happened to drift through the air quite often, that is.

"It's a bit easier for you," Merlin said, "you never exactly betrayed him."

He didn't try to assume the terribly fake light tone he had taken when Gwen had gone to see him the first time, instead he just sounded tired. Would people still like him if he was tired? Because he could sleep for a lifetime if so.

"You never betrayed him, Merlin," Gwen said firmly as he looked determinedly at the sky, "don't forget that. Yes, you lied, but it was to keep him safe."

"It was to save my own…it was to save myself," Merlin said softly.

"You have a right to be safe, Merlin."

"I know, I know," Merlin said, but really he didn't. He didn't know. He sat up and pulled the picnic basket towards himself, rummaged through it, and pulled out a small plate of brownies.

"I couldn't believe my luck when I saw them in the kitchen," Gwen said, indicating the brownies.

"Me either," Merlin ate the first one in one go. It was sweet, delicious, but the taste in his memory was better, "last time I had them was with Arthur."

"Yeah, that's why I brought them."

Arthur had snuck out of the castle when Gwen had been staying at Lacey's to see her and had told her of his and Merlin's adventures. It had taken some sneaking around to avoid the other woman seeing them together…pointless, as Lacy somehow knew anyway.

"I thought they'd cheer you up."

"They do, they do," Merlin said, taking a second one. Gwen picked one up and took a bite.

"I know why you like them," she said, popping the rest into her mouth, "when done well they aren't too rich but quite…"

She paused mid speech to swallow.

"I know what you mean," Merlin picked up where she had left off, "If they are nicely cooked on the outside but not hard on the inside they are really…"

Gwen made a sound that may have been an attempt at his name but came out as a gargle.

"What? Gwen, GWEN!?"

Merlin sat bolt upright, Gwen was hunched over with one fist in the grass, the other at her throat. Her throat moved convulsively for a moment before she suddenly wretched up brownie and blood.

"GWEN!" He scrambled to her side, not noticing the picnic basket and food fly out of the way.

"Merlin," she grabbed one hand at him, her fingers twitching.

"What's happening? What's happening?" He panicked, her arm began to shake.

"I…I don't kn…kn…kn…" she couldn't get the word out, her body was seizing.

Merlin placed a hand to her throat and scanned her with his magic. There was something wrong with her mouth, her throat, her stomach. He could feel her stomach cramping even as she hunched over.

"Poison," he said, "poison!"

He threw his magic against the poison, whatever it was. Gwen coughed and hunched further forwards.

"C'mon Gwen, cough it up, get it out!" Merlin cried. Gwen's hand was at her mouth, then she was vomiting more blood. She took a singular roaring breath.

"Hang on!" Merlin cried and pulled her into his arms. His magic twanged like a bowstring, like a badly tuned instrument, but he forced the memory of Mordred disappearing in a twisting wind into his mind and _pushed. _

The world felt like it didn't want to let them go. It was scraped against them like glass, snapping like brittle twigs, there was a rush of wild wind and Merlin tightened his grip on Gwen, terrified he'd lose hold of her in this netherworld.

Then suddenly they were crashing into Gaius' chambers. Merlin's leg slammed into the table but he staggered and kept himself upright, Gwen leaning heavily against him.

"GAIUS!" He yelled, hoping (praying) that Gaius was here and not in the library or on some errand.

"Merlin!" Gaius was at his bench, dropping a loaf of bread as he turned and saw Merlin supporting Gwen.

"What happened?" He demanded in his 'physician' voice. The 'physician' voice gave Merlin his first small start of courage.

"We were eating and she's been poisoned Gaius, it must've been meant for me!"

"Bucket," Gaius pointed at the corner of the room where the wash bucket sat, Merlin flicked it towards them and Gaius caught it, mid-air, and placed it in Gwen's hands.

"My magic must've burnt the poison out of the food I was eating, but I didn't shield _her!_"

"Bring up as much as you can, Guinevere," Gaius ordered. Merlin had his hands on Gwen's back, not knowing what to do.

"Cramps, spasms," Gaius muttered, hobbling to his cabinet and throwing it open, "vomiting, blood in the mouth..."

"Do you know what poison it is?" Merlin asked around his heart, which was sitting in his throat.

"Not exactly, but it is in a class of poisons which all work the same way there is a general antidote that can combat it's effects," Gaius replied, sending vials crashing to the side in his haste to reach one at the back. Finally he had the vial he desired and hobbled back to Gwen and Merlin.

"Gwen, you need to swallow this," Gaius said, kneeling despite his arthritic knees. She shook her head wordlessly as she retched again. She was bringing nothing up, her throated had closed over. Merlin could feel it in his bones, she was going to die.

She was going to die because of _him. _Because of his _thoughtlessness. _

"Gwen, you _must _drink this," Gaius yanked the cork from the bottle and tried to force it into her hand. Gwen tried to take it, she really tried, but she simply couldn't control the muscles in her wrist and her hand kept shaking open.

The bucket clanged to the floor.

"Please Gwen, you'll _die_," Gaius said desperately, abandoning his physician's voice. Merlin moved.

"Get out of the way, Gaius," he said.

"What?"

But there wasn't _time. _Merlin pushed him aside (sorry Gaius) and flicked the vial into his hand with a flash of gold. Another flash of gold and he was pulling Gwen's head up. He tried to do it gently but her neck muscles were seizing. With his magic Merlin cleared a path (gently, carefully) down Gwen's throat, forced the vial into the corner of her mouth and tipped her head back. Her muscles couldn't swallow, so Merlin guided the antidote down her throat to her stomach for her, guarding her windpipe.

Nothing happened.

"Gaius!" Merlin sobbed as Gwen shuddered, he grabbed her, hugged her, tried to stop her from shaking apart. Gaius stood.

"Wait…" he said.

"Wait!? There's no time, it's not working, is there anything else…"

"No, Merlin, look, it's working," Gaius said. He reached forward with his soft, physician hands and pulled the lower lid of Gwen's right eye down. Semi-conscious, Gwen didn't protest, her eye merely rolled weakly in Gaius' direction.

"What?" Merlin asked, slightly less desperate, not sure what he was looking for.

"The antidote has stopped the poison from progressing. If the poison was still being actively digested from her stomach the dosage would've caused capillary rupture in her eyes by now, but it hasn't." Gwen pulled his hand back and rested it on Gwen's shoulder. Merlin looked anxiously from Gwen to Gaius.

"Gwen, you are going to be okay. You've taken the antidote and now the poison has stopped taking further effect. You will still be feeling sick, but that is perfectly normal. It will take a few moments for the digested poison to be negated by the antidote, but you will begin to feel better soon. Don't worry, Merlin and I are here, we are taking care of you."

"Gaius," Merlin looked at Gwen, who continued to shake violently without giving any indication that she had heard anything Gaius had said, "She's not responding."

"That's okay Merlin, she cannot," Gaius went to their water bucket and heaved it up with a surprising show of strength.

"That doesn't sound okay!" Merlin said.

"I know," Gaius took a cloth from the bench and dipped it in the water, dabbing at Gwen's forehead.

"She won't be able to work the muscles it takes to speak for a while. Just make sure she keeps breathing."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

"Merlin," Gaius grabbed Merlin's wrist and looked him in the eye; "it will be okay, calm down. Gwen needs you to be calm."

Merlin took a shuddering breath, swallowing back the feeling of crying in his throat that had accompanied his heart, and nodded.

"It's okay, Gwen," he said, resting his chin in her hair and rocking her towards him, "it's going to be okay."

Tears ran down his face and into her hair, he didn't even try to wipe them away. He surrounded her with his magic to protect her, but it was too little, too late.

"I'm sorry Gwen, I'm so, so sorry."

Gwen recovered enough to, in a rusty voice, tell Merlin it wasn't his fault and thank him and Gaius for taking care of her. She then consented to take a sleeping draft which Gaius advised. Merlin, primarily through the use of magic, moved Gwen into the patient's cot. As Gaius was tucking her in Merlin carefully slipped out of the room.

He pulled the door shut behind him and shuttered his face, the guards were watching, startled, having seen Merlin leave but not return.

Merlin barely noticed the guards follow him to Arthur's chambers; he was also so distracted as to not feel embarrassed when his hand shook visibly when raised to knock on Arthur's door. He knocked, his fist rattling against the wood like it was cold and to his surprise he saw it shivering. Arthur yelled that the door was unlocked, probably expecting one of his new servile servants.

Merlin let himself in and closed the door before the guards could come forwards. Arthur looked up from his desk. Merlin was so derailed he couldn't control himself; letting out an odd, pained sound at the sight of the two untidy cuts marking Arthur's face. His expression did not close when he saw Merlin, it was already blank. He said,

"Oh, it's you."

He didn't say it quite as spitefully as usual, but seemingly more due to preoccupation then because of any forgiveness.

"Listen, I…" Arthur began in an uncharacteristically shaken voice, and later Merlin would wonder what he was going to say; if Arthur had finished that sentence, would things have turned out differently? Would the world have turned out better?

But in the moment Merlin was dizzy with shock and pain and anguish and he interrupted Arthur and stated, more baldly then he intended,

"Gwen was poisoned."

"What?" Arthur went ghost white, making the red marks stand out like war paint.

"It was meant for me…but...it…" Merlin staggered and put his hand on the fireplace, above the flames, feeling like his soul was _in _the fireplace. Arthur leapt to his feet and disappeared without another word, not needing anything more than the word of an untrusted someone to confirm bad news, where good news would need liberal evidence.

Merlin just leant on the wall and breathed and wondered if this was what dying felt like.

No, he decided as he gasped out a sob, this was what living felt like.

**::Arthur::**

Gwen was asleep when Arthur arrived in a flurry of fear at Gaius' workshop. This was probably a good thing as Arthur lost his head completely. He cried a bit and yelled a little and Gaius weathered it all, calming him by giving him a damp cloth to wipe across Gwen's creased forehead. Caring for her quietened him and Arthur sat for a while and tended her, time passing without meaning behind him. Whilst he was preoccupied with tending Gwen's face Arthur dimly noticed Gaius wiping the blood from his own.

Finally he was able to return to himself. Gaius assured him that Gwen would be okay, that she just needed to rest for a few days and drink a lot of fluids. He also told Arthur about how Merlin had saved Gwen by transporting her to his quarters then using his magic to administer the antidote. Arthur hadn't reacted and Gaius had turned away, disappointed, thinking he hadn't been listening.

But he had.

Knowing that her health would improve Arthur excused himself to go and see his father feeling, if he was honest, a little fearful…but also like he would rather like to radically reduce his father's health, possibly with a sword.

However the last week had made him careful of others and himself, so he unclipped his sword from his belt and, ignoring the sting on his face, thrust it to a passing servant with orders to take it to his rooms.

He could not trust himself with it _at all._

His father was in his private study reading over some notes on non-magical methods of effectively combatting sorcerers when Arthur appeared. Arthur's heart pounded (trembled) and his senses had sharpened and the text on every book burnt like brands on the backs of his eyes. An instinct alighted on Arthur's mind; do not let Uther know about Gwen and him, his love for her. Have your rage, but make him think it's something else.

(Stinging cheek…Don't show fear.)

"You…" he stuttered, the instinct racing through his brain and twisting the accusations into something presentable, "you poisoned an innocent citizen of Camelot!"

Uther looked up, candle light reflecting and empty yellow off of his eyes and making the cracks in his face deep.

"Excuse me?" He asked in a warning tone.

"You tried to poison M-the sorcerer and instead poisoned a member of the Royal staff!"

"The sorcerer was not poisoned?" Uther said, sounding disappointed but unsurprised.

"No!" Arthur snarled, "And if you knew anything about him you would know that he is too powerful to be poisoned!"

Uther frowned and placed the heavy book on the table, marking his page and slapping it closed.

"We had to try it before moving on to…more extreme methods."

"Extreme!?" (Calm down Arthur, he'll realise, he'll know. Hide it)

"One of our citizens has been poisoned and nearly died and that is not _extreme _enough for you?"

"The person survived?" Uther asked, surprised now.

"Barely."

"I don't know what you are making a fuss about then; though that was supposed to be the most potent poison in Councillor Baddon's stocks so I question his…"

"She only survived because Merlin _saved _her," Arthur snarled. Uther straightened in his chair.

"_You _tried to poison an innocent woman and the sorcerer saved her life."

"I did not intend for the woman to be poisoned," Uther said in a cutting voice, "but her sacrifice would've been justified in the fight against magic."

"She was just collateral damage? She was just an acceptable death?" Arthur was incensed.

"I know it is difficult to understand, Arthur, but when you rule a country sometimes the sacrifice of a few is necessary for the good of all."

"But you didn't sacrifice her for the _good of all!_"

"If she survived then I did not sacrifice her at all, so again I do not see why…"

Arthur interrupted,

"You would've gladly sacrificed her to kill someone who _doesn't deserve to die!_"

An earth shattering silence descended.

This was no questioning of Uther's decree, this was an outright contradiction. And it was Arthur saying it, the one person who could realistically threaten Uther's decree on magic. The King stood and the desk shook.

"What did you say?" He said in the same whisper death threats are voiced in.

"You're wrong," Arthur said, voicing the feeling that had been growing and swelling inside of his mind for days, "Merlin is _not evil._"

"The sorcerer uses magic, the sorcerer is evil!"

"He is not, he saved…"

"No!" Uther strode around the desk like an executioner, "you do not question me. This is treason to the crown Arthur, this is rebellion."

"Maybe the crown needs a little rebellion every now and then to keep it honest," the firelight was flickering against Arthur's face like dragon fire. The cuts on his face burnt.

"Do not let magic turn you against me," Uther said, suddenly adopting his fatherly tone. Arthur lashed it away,

"Magic hasn't turned me against you, you did that all by yourself!"

"Magic will make you believe that, it will blind you to…"

"NO!" Arthur dug his hands into his hair, horrified that if he listened he would be convinced not by reason, but by his desperation to agree with his father (because it would make him _proud_.)

"There is no evidence of…"

"Of course you wouldn't see the evidence, not if you are the subject of such a spell," Uther reasoned. The transition from fury to concern was alarming and disconcerting. Struggling not to be wrong footed Arthur said,

"None of that changes the fact that you tried to poison Gwen."

(_Careful_, Arthur, don't say her name. Don't even think it. He will hear you!)

"I regretted sacrificing the woman, but it was for the greater good."

"She would've died for nothing, the poison couldn't kill Merlin," Arthur tried not to cry; he wanted to understand, he did understand, he wanted to believe. He wanted to know what to believe in.

"That would have been tragic, of course," Uther stepped forwards and put his hands on Arthur's shoulder, damn it, "but even if the sorcerer hadn't died and she had, she would've died in the fight for justice and the protection of Camelot. Isn't that worth dying for?"

"I…" Arthur's grief was making him queasy…it made sense, it didn't excuse anything but…

"You had no right to…to _play _with her life like that."

"I did not have a right, but I had a responsibility," Uther lowered his head, standing between the candle and Arthur and throwing shadows with his face.

"As King it is my duty to make the hard choices and stand by what is right even if nobody else understands. Even if everybody believes that you are wrong, or doing the wrong thing, that doesn't make it so."

Arthur was so _confused, _these were exactly the arguments he would've used against his father. They'd been in his lungs, the blood that had fallen from his face, ready to fall from the tip of his tongue but now his father had already said them. Obviously his father understood the argument…did that mean that it was Arthur who did not understand. He tried to draw back but Uther held his shoulders firmly.

"I know this distresses you, it distresses me as well. You've always had a great affection and protective instinct for the servants and small folk of Camelot which, however inappropriate, is commendable. I did not make the decision lightly; I did not sleep at all last night."

Arthur searched his father's eyes, he didn't look tired, he didn't look weary…but maybe he was invigorated by his beliefs or something.

"You are confused, Arthur, because you have been enchanted to be confused. You would understand me perfectly if you were in your right mind," Uther's eyebrows drew together and for a moment it looked as if he was going to gather Arthur into his arms and actually _hug_ him.

(Please.)

(No.)

"It isn't your fault; it is the sorcerer's fault, that is why the sorcerer must die. Only when he is dead will you realise he should die."

"You might be right…but I still cannot believe in the justification of his execution. There must be another way. If there was a way to ensure I am not enchanted without killing him I will be able to understand in my right mind. If then I understand he must die, I will not stand in your way. But as long as there is a chance he may be innocent, I cannot stand by and let you kill him."

Uther sighed and his hands fell off Arthur's shoulders; Arthur felt abruptly like he had failed.

"I could of course execute him today, and tomorrow you would see it was the right thing. But for your sake, for your immediate peace of mind, I will not," Uther gave him a disappointed look; Arthur swallowed.

"There may be a way, however, to neutralise his magic _without_ the magic restraining cuffs and _without _killing him," Uther said, gesturing at his book.

"How?" Arthur asked, eager (desperate) to find some way of loving Uther and making him proud without compromising his values…himself. (He forgot, for the moment, his stinging cheek.)

Uther paused for a moment, his face was unreadable in shadow, then he spoke.

"There is a way," Uther gestured to the book he had been reading, "written by Kings of old. Before the time of magical restraints the procedure of blood-letting was used to weaken sorcerers so they could be held."

"Blood-letting!" Arthur exclaimed; he was familiar with the theory of the practise of putting incisions in a person veins and draining them of their blood. It used to be done to remove sickness but Gaius insisted on other methods, but Arthur had never heard of it being done for non-medical cases.

"Yes. A person's strength, physical or magical, lies in their blood. Drain enough of it and even the strongest sorcerers' magic will fail."

Arthur couldn't help but imagine the process of blood-letting, the knives, the sterile smell, the bowls of blood…and put that together with brave, idiotic Merlin.

He blinked several times.

"That's…barbaric!" Arthur all but gasped.

"It's the only way!" Uther insisted, "You insist on being free of the sorcerers spell before his execution and this is the only way to do so."

Was he doing the right thing? He was trying to, he just wanted to understand, to know what the right thing _was, _and he couldn't do that when his judgement was potentially being warped by a sorcerer.

"However, the plan will require getting close to the sorcerer, getting beneath his magical shield. He will undoubtedly repel us if he knows what we intend, and he has already repelled us when we have threatened him or threatened him through others…"

"But then there is no way to get close enough to him!" Arthur said, remembering his descending sword and the shield flashing between him and Merlin (it wasn't a pang of regret, it was anxiety…or something.)

"There is, Arthur," Uther as looking at him now with the expression of a fox; snide and cunning. "There is one person who can get close enough to the sorcerer to knock him out, render him unconscious, so that we may safely neutralise him and his magic."

"Who?"

Uther looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as though he expected Arthur to have guessed.

"You, Arthur."

Arthur choked for a moment.

"But…he is always on guard around me, father. He always has his shields up."

"You must gain his trust," Uther's voice was as dark as the shadows on his face, "it is a terrible risk to put you in, but the only way to get close enough to the sorcerer is if you gain his trust, and make him believe you are on his side, so that he lets down his shields around you."

Arthur felt a shiver in his spine; a quailing of heart.

"That's…that goes against the code of honour. That is dishonest, deception; that is exactly what he is accused of doing to us! How can we do the crime we are trying to commit him of?"

"It is necessary," Uther said forcefully, "and we are doing this for a just cause."

"We? There is no 'we,' _I _would be the one compromising _my_ honour; I would be the one committing the crime. There is no 'we' in this," Arthur stepped backwards, repulsed, "Why can't we just ask him to submit himself to the procedure, if he does we will know he is not evil, if he doesn't we'll know he is."

"The sorcerer's spells on you would make you unable to understand that logic. You can now, but if the sorcerer knew of this situation he would warp your mind so that, whatever he was doing, you would believe it was for the good of all. No, the only way to do this and do it effectively is if the sorcerer is unaware of what we are doing."

Feeling the urge to kneel on the ground and clench his fists in his hair and have a nervous breakdown, Arthur took another step away from his father. His father was good! His father was the king! But inside Arthur could feel only horror of the man in front of him.

"I cannot do this…I…I need to think," he said and moved towards the door.

"Take all of the time you need, son," the fatherly tone stopped Arthur in his tracks, "only, do not tell the sorcerer, for then the plan would be for naught and we would have to fall back on…messier…solutions."

**::Merlin::**

The sun was shining outside, the birds were singing, the people were talking and Merlin had lit the fire in Arthur's hearth for warmth.

He was surrounded by silence.

He wished his mind would be silent; he wanted to hit his head against the wall until he couldn't _think _anymore. He sat there, remembering Gwen eating the food, choking, gasping, bleeding, and dying.

His legs watered and he fell to his knees. They would bruise in memory of his anguish.

The poison had, of course, been meant for him. It had been in the brownies. It was no massive secret that he loved brownies. He'd slunk into the kitchens whenever they were made and he had no reason to believe Arthur had not told his father of their exploits with the Moledue's.

He didn't want to believe it. Logic wasn't on its side; for all of his confidence Uther didn't trust Arthur, nor did he trust Arthur's belief in him. It had faltered before and now, with what was right railing against him, Uther feared the righteousness he knew was in Arthur. Even though Arthur's love for Uther overcame many of his beliefs Uther was always afraid that it would fail when he needed it most; and he needed it most now.

Merlin knelt in front of the fire with head bowed to it as if in prayer, as if he was praying to the pyre that loomed over his soul, until the door banged open and Arthur appeared, framed by it, and looked at him in front of the fire. Merlin turned his head to look at Arthur, mindless of the tear tracks down his cheeks. They were evidence of his shame.

Arthur stared at him; not in a shocked way from finding him crying, not even in an angry way at finding Merlin in his room…no, it was in a judging, evaluating sort of way.

Moving into the room towards Merlin Arthur closed the door behind him. Hating himself, hating his magic, Merlin felt his ever-present invisible shield tense around him as if waiting for a blow.

But Arthur was still _looking _at him as if he was trying to read is soul. He was looking into Merlin's eyes as the eyes are the window to the soul and Merlin didn't know what Arthur was seeing there.

"I saw Gwen," Arthur said suddenly over the silence, absentmindedly touching a hand to the two lines on his face. With no response at the ready, Merlin remained silent.

"Gaius said she would be okay."

Merlin bowed his head and clenched his fists on his knees. Arthur put a voice to Merlin's internal monologue.

"Why didn't you put a shield around her?" His voice muffled as if he was turning away, which he was, "You knew my father was trying to kill you. You put her at great risk by being seen in public with her and not only that but you didn't even try to protect her!"

"I made a mistake," Merlin said hoarsely.

"No kidding!" Arthur snapped; his voice was moving behind Merlin now. The hairs stood up his neck. He hunched over like a dog about to be beaten.

It would not be accurate to say that Arthur was in his blind spot. Merlin's magic was hyper-aware of him and so he could feel where Arthur was, but he didn't know what expression was on his face or what thoughts were in his head. He didn't want to know. (He did want to know.)

He felt Arthur turn towards him.

"How many other mistakes have you made?"

Merlin shivered.

"Many."

"What were they?" Arthur demanded. Merlin swivelled on his heels to look up at Arthur and stood stiffly. He had to stand for this; if he said these things whilst kneeling he may never stand again.

"I trusted people I shouldn't have…"

"I know the feeling," Arthur said so sharply the scab on one cut cracked a trickle of red ran out, "tell me your worst mistake."

Arthur sounded like he was looking for an excuse to hate him and normally Merlin would've railed against him, telling him the good with the bad, how he always fixed his mistakes, or at least tried to. But in the wake of Gwen's almost death and the horror at what he almost _did _through sheer negligence he forgot what Gwen and Gaius had been so concerned that he would forget.

He forgot that he was worth defending; he forgot that he was more than his mistakes.

(He deserved this, deserved to be hated, because maybe if people hated him they would be on guard against him and he wouldn't be able to _hurt _them anymore.)

"I…have so many…" he whispered, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

Arthur took a step towards him.

"Tell me," he also whispered, as if he felt the monolithic secret looming over them like a mountain about to fall.

"I…I released the Great Dragon…" Merlin said.

There was a pregnant silence before…

"That was _YOU_?" Arthur asked in horror, in fury, "_YOU _released the Great Dragon? Why? Why would you do that? So many people died! Knights, soldiers, city folk! Why would you _do that_?"

"It was the only way!" Merlin wailed despairingly, almost stepping backwards into the fire, "the dragon wouldn't tell me how to defeat the Knights of Idirsholas unless I promised to free him."

Arthur loomed towards him and his magic fluttered, trying to rise unbidden to guard him.

"He made me _swear_, Arthur, he made me _swear _to release him!"

"What vow would not be worth breaking if holding it meant the death of all those people?" Arthur yelled. Merlin was crying afresh and trying to speak around it, around everything, barely able to pronounce anything.

"He made me swear on my mother's life. He'd almost killed her before; I couldn't take the chance he would find a way to try again."

"And your mother's life is worth more than all of those of the people of Camelot you put in mortal danger?" Arthur snarled and paced at the edge of Merlin's magic. There was no solid shield but Arthur could feel its weight in the air all the same.

"I thought I could stop him, I thought I could convince him! I didn't think anyone had to die! I thought if I released him he would be grateful enough to respect my wishes that he leave Camelot!"

"You thought, you thought, you thought!" Arthur growled, "This is why Camelot is run on _laws_ and not _feelings_."

With a dragon-like snarl of rage he spat at Merlin and prowled away, slamming the door so hard the bolts through the hinges shrieked in the wall.

In too much despair and pain to race after Arthur, Merlin gave a torn sob and fell to his knees. He promptly sat on the fire and jerked forwards. He was embarrassed that he had been senseless enough to burn his behind even though there was no one there. Hurt, ashamed, angry, anguished…Merlin couldn't find the will to move, which only added a fear that Arthur would return and loath him for his weakness. But he need not have worried, Arthur would not return to his room until long after Merlin had stood and limped away.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur returned to his father's study. The fire was out, so when he opened the door and he threw his shadow before him into the dark room.

He was wreathed in darkness.

Uther looked up and saw Arthur's words on his face before he'd put voice to them. He was already smiling as Arthur said,

"I'll do it."


	6. Chapter 6: Precious chance

**Hello world! **

**Firstly, to all of my awesome, awesome reviewers, I am sorry I haven't responded. I do read and appreciate every review, only sometimes I don't know what to say :) So thank you.**

**Secondly…for some reason I just got the urge to do a soap opera-esque 'Previously, in Until Forever Ends…' But I won't…because I don't want my readers to throw their computers out of a window (or, if there are no windows immediately available, picking up their computer and finding a window, then throwing it out.)**

**For some reason I keep accidentally thinking this stories name is 'Undone.' No idea why, it was never called that. I have been listening to a song called 'Undone,' by FFH (note to self, get an acronym for a name,) but eh, who knows.**

**Anyway!**

**So a couple of people have asked about the knights. You learn a little bit about them in this chapter. Sorry I haven't responded to the questions, but I don't want to give away **_**any **_**plot details in responses or anything. You guys are an intelligent bunch and you'd probably be able to deduce not only the entire story from what I say but also the colour of the shirt I was wearing as I wrote it as well as my favourite flavour of ice cream. We can't have that, can we?**

**Anyway! (Again…saying 'anyway' is my awesome method of changing topic…)**

**On with the story!**

**Chapter 6:**

**Precious chance. **

**::Arthur::**

Uther's first course of action was to interrogate Arthur about Merlin and everything he knew about the boy. When Arthur disclosed the friendship Merlin had with some of the knights on patrol Uther's sent a messenger out to meet them. The messenger was sent with his head full of things like 'false alarm' and 'trickery' and orders to send the knights on a false trail. A few days ago they'd been sent orders to come back to the castle, but now that was the last thing Uther wanted. Uther didn't want any of the, what he called, 'traitorous potential allies of the sorcerer's' returning to the castle for obvious reasons that Arthur agreed with, though he couldn't find it in himself to nod vigerously when Uther muttered about 'dealing with the knights when all of this was over.' Arthur was too busy hating Merlin to hate Merlin's friends as well…that and they were his friends too, or at least had been once.

Father and son talked for hours and hours into the darkness and that night Arthur slept and dreamt of knives and pain and blood in the dark. He forgot his dreams in the morning when his nightmares woke him.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin didn't sleep that night. He couldn't face his home with Gaius and Gwen and the guilt it contained, so he roamed the castle. Thanks to his previous wanderings of the castle during the week when he passed people in the corridors hardly any of them flinched; they were too used to surviving random encounters with their former-colleague and being terrified for no reason was too much bother. Over the past few days this had been a source of hope, a source of comfort, but now the fact that these people did not avoid him anymore alarmed Merlin. If they didn't avoid him, how could he avoid hurting them? Of course he didn't want to but he hadn't wanted to hurt Gwen and look at what happened to her. Look at the state she was in. Look at how close Merlin had come to never seeing her again.

His roaming took him to the castles battlements where he stood, shivering. Without reaching out he could feel his shields out there, in the sky and on the land around Camelot. They weren't complete, impermeable domes, as such a shield didn't just block intruders or attackers, it blocked _everything. _He'd put up his best shield tentatively the other night in secret, so as not to alarm people, but found he couldn't regulate it so Camelot citizens could come and go. He also confused several birds that found themselves suddenly diverted on their flight paths for no reason that they could see. Whilst his current spells protected Camelot on many levels they weren't impenetrable, as Mordred himself had proven.

Twice.

Charms to alarm him of enemies were no better. The roads to Ealdor were easy in comparison to the castle; in Camelot everyone was threatened and seemed to think he was their enemy, and vice versa, due to his magic. Thus whenever he set up the charms they instantly gave voice to many separate discordant songs, like a music shop in a high wind, and wouldn't let him think, so he'd pulled them down. He didn't need them anyway.

He knew who his enemies were.

Merlin spent the night testing his magic, trying to bend it into something manageable enough to protect Camelot without smothering it, occasionally sniffing his sadness back down his throat.

His life now felt like he was trying to navigate his way home with an old map and a compass that didn't point north.

He didn't want to return to Gaius but without his home, his point of orientation, he was adrift. So he stood and shivered and watched the dawn rise on a new day without interest or hope.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur's eyes flicked open and he sucked in a breath so suddenly it sounded like he'd just been revived. Due to the recent disorganisation with the servants he kept on being woken at different times. However this morning his body remembered its early mornings and when the glow of the dawn through the window had lit his lids sufficiently he had woken all by himself.

Who needed servants?

(Who needed friends?)

He sat up and rubbed his hand hard over his face, trying to remember and forget his dream at the same time. Often after a turbulent previous day he would wake with the memory of the emotion fogging his mind and he would blunder around for a few moments until he awoke enough to remember exactly why it was he was feeling so elated or angry or depressed. Not this morning though. Maybe he'd been dreaming about it, he couldn't quite remember, but either way he awoke with what he had to do on his mind.

Arthur swung his legs out of bed and paused for a moment.

How on earth was he supposed to do this?

He stood up and went to his washbasin.

Where would he get the strength?

He splashed his face with yesterday's tepid water, wincing as it reminded him of the cuts on his face.

What would be the right behaviour?

He touched his face, there was slight swelling and probably some bruising but it didn't feel infected.

What would be the most convincing?

His face now smelt of stale water and stone.

Was that even a smell?

Pushing himself away from the basin Arthur strode to his door and ordered one of the guards his father insisted on stationing outside his rooms to fetch a servant for his breakfast. Arthur dressed quickly; strapping his sword to his side to remind himself what he was doing, what his aim was. When his breakfast arrived a few minutes later Arthur propped it on his window sill so he could eat it whilst watching Camelot and _thinking. _

The sun was out; it was going to be a beautiful day. Good for the day, he thought sourly.

Arthur thought fighting for justice would always be a noble and righteous pursuit, but his current mission felt a lot like a cowardly knife in the dark then any great deed. He bit into a leg of chicken, remembering the past few days and constructing convincing behaviour in his head to present to Merlin.

It would not, of course, be convincing that he suddenly forgave Merlin out of nowhere when his behaviour over the past week had been so furiously unforgiving. However the recent near-tragedy with Gwen might give him a way in (his heart panged but he couldn't think of her, if he thought of her and what she would _think _of what he was doing he wouldn't have the heart to continue. In a way he was doing this for her, he was doing this to make absolutely certain Camelot was safe…from the man who had saved it.)

Merlin, and Gaius and Gwen, would believe him if he said his father's recent, accidental poisoning of Gwen had made him realise the truth.

Yes, they would believe that. They would _want _to believe that, which would, of course, make it all the easier to convince them.

Arthur would have to betray his father a little, he would have to say he was wrong and not a good king, but his father had said that was okay, was necessary. If it was a means to an end…it was alright wasn't it? If the end was good? And the end was good, wasn't it?

He tried not to think about what victory was going to look like.

Finishing his bread Arthur distractedly swept the scraps of his meal off of his plate out the open window to the courtyard below.

As he turned away from his window to go and do his father's bidding Arthur could heal the rattle of the bones in the court yard.

Merlin was not in Gaius quarters, but Arthur did stay for longer than he intended to talk to Gwen and make her some exceptionally terrible coffee. She seemed to appreciate the attempt so he vowed to give it another try sometime after the end of the world he was planning. When asking about Merlin's location he glowered towards Gaius because that's what Gaius would've expected him to do. It seemed to work, the old man did not look suspicious (he should've known better.) He wasn't very helpful though; Gaius said Merlin had disappeared at some stage the night before and hadn't returned. This was delivered in a clipped tone that illustrated Gaius' wish of bodily harm to befall Arthur (or, more accurately, Uther) and so, ever prudent, Arthur bid his goodbyes.

When he saw the guard at the end of the hall Arthur had the brief notion to ask his father. His father was having the sorcerer tracked and hence would probably be able to give Arthur his location down to the millimetre. But somehow it felt wrong to ask his father; his father was a part of this as much as he was, but it still felt private. It still felt like this was between just Merlin and Arthur.

(Don't be silly, don't be sentimental. Don't you dare feel empathy for someone you plan to tear apart, Arthur.)

As much as Arthur despised Merlin he knew how he worked, knew how he thought (with his heart and, sometimes, with his head) and knew he would've, like Arthur, gravitated to the open air. Merlin would've wanted to escape but had vowed to stay. Anchored to this castle, this prison of his, there was only place he would've gone.

And what do you know, there he was.

To know the heart of one sorcerer was to know them all, his father often said. In which case, Arthur knew everything about every sorcerer who had ever lived.

**::Merlin::**

The breeze ruffled his unkempt black hair over his sleep deprived face nicely. It felt like water. Merlin pushed his face into the wind and didn't think. His magic, running sleepily within him, perked up suddenly, interested by something nearby. He looked around.

Arthur had appeared silently on the battlements a few meters away, staring at him. Straightening, Merlin stared back, wordlessly waiting for whatever was going to happen to happen. Seeming to reach a decision of some kind Arthur move forwards very deliberately and leant on the battlement besides Merlin. Admittedly he was further away than normal but part of Merlin's heart flew high with hope.

Trying to act casual Merlin returned to his battlement-leaning; Arthur must've come here for a reason and trying to rush him would only drive him away.

Merlin stopped noticing the breeze; all he could think about was Arthur, right there, Arthur, who had come to him. His skin was electrified, his magic was a spooked horse seconds from bolting.

"When I saw Gwen, she and Gaius…they told me…" Arthur said over the wall.

Merlin caught the words before they could fall.

"They told me about how you saved her with magic. They confirmed what you said about my father…"

Arthur sounded like he was checking and re-checking his sentences before he said them.

"…about him poisoning her…and you saved…" Seeming to realise he'd already said that Arthur fell quiet.

"And…what did you think?" Merlin asked cautiously.

"I think," Arthur scratched a fleck of stone from the battlement and flicked it into the darkness as he spoke, "I may have been a little…harsh on you about releasing the…well...I was too hasty in denying you a second chance."

Merlin turned to face Arthur now, straightening up.

Hoping.

Not daring to hope.

_Hoping. _

"So…" Arthur looked uncomfortably down at the wall, "would you like one?"

Merlin stood taller still, hands wanting to shake.

"A second chance?" Arthur looked at him now.

The dawn filtered through the clouds, turning the world gold and red.

"_Yes_," Merlin said hoarsely, his throat trembling with restraint, "sire, please, yes."

Arthur frowned and looked away from Merlin for a moment, squinting into the light.

"Okay," he said in an unfathomable voice, "Okay."

Merlin beamed like the sun, scuffing his hands against his sides, not knowing what to do with these suddenly cumbersome limbs. He didn't want to react the wrong way and make Arthur rescind his offer but he was suddenly _so_ _happy. _

"I could," he stopped speaking for a moment and swallowed the shaking in his voice, "I could get you your breakfast, sire?" his tone lilted upwards tentatively.

"I've already had breakfast," Arthur said, flicking more crumbled stone off of the battlement.

"Oh," Merlin swung his hands slightly.

"But anyway, you're not becoming my servant again."

"Oh," Merlin said again, highly intelligently.

"No I'll…we'll see how we go and…what uses we could put a…a…a sorcerer to," Arthur coughed as if the word had gone down or come out the wrong way. Tapping his palms together nervously Merlin asked,

"Um…what does the, um, the king think…about this?"

"My father trusts my judgement," Arthur said softly, "he won't harm you whilst you are under my protection."

Exhaling his fears Merlin looked closely at Arthur. The marks he'd seen yesterday were still on Arthur's cheek. Where had Merlin been when Arthur was getting hurt? Merlin was supposed to protect him.

"He couldn't harm me whilst I was under _my _protection, either," he said. He didn't need Arthur's protection. He appreciated it, but Arthur was the sort of person who saw those he defended as weak even if he didn't mean to. If Merlin and he were going to give it another shot it was going to be for a completely equal relationship. As nervous as Merlin was about Arthur's shaking resolve, Merlin was more afraid of the possibility that he would waste this second chance, this precious, surely last, chance.

But Arthur was smiling.

"That's true, that's true," Arthur said, looking back at Merlin standing oh so nervously at his side, "but hopefully you won't _need _protecting much longer."

Merlin gave another dazzling smile, the sun shining behind him, and Arthur had to suddenly narrow his eyes against the glare.

His excitement blazing through him like a wildfire Merlin completely forgot to feel guilty. He led Arthur down to Gaius' and burst in, much to the surprise of the room's occupants.

"Gaius!" He was shouting, "Gaius!"

Gaius looked up, alarmed, when his breakfast dishes started dancing more than any breakfast dish should dance whilst he was trying to eat from them.

"Merlin? What the…Merlin!" Gaius looked around, alarmed, as his stocks of dried herbs suddenly sprang to life, green shoots snaking out of the cracks in cupboard doors. Beside himself with ecstasy Merlin's magic bubbled against Gaius' mind, conveying _Arthur is giving me a second chance _without words in a stream of love and light.

"Merlin, pull your head in," the physician ordered, but he was smiling and letting Merlin hug him before dancing over to Gwen. As he embraced Gwen he looked over her shoulder to Arthur, standing in the doorway and looking into the room with alarm.

Abashed, horrified at his loss of control, Merlin reeled in his magic. Yes Arthur was trying to come to terms with his magic, but maybe a slow introduction would be more effective than this…outburst.

"Sorry, ugh…about that…" Merlin straightened, flushing slightly in embarrassment.

Arthur seemed to be swallowing around a constriction in his throat; it took him some time. Finally he managed to say in a voice a little higher pitched than usual;

"Does that happen often?"

"No, um…it's never happened before, actually," Merlin said. At Gaius' disbelieving glare he added.

"Well, not as badly…perpetual fear of having one's head lopped off has a way of dampening one's spirits."

The grin he threw in Arthur's direction faltered for a moment. Maybe he shouldn't be joking about this…but Arthur was just looking politely puzzled at the shoots drying and curling themselves back into the cupboards instead of alarmed or insulted at Merlin's comment.

"Can I make you some tea, sire?" Gaius asked, drawing out a chair for Arthur. Arthur declined the tea but took the chair and scooted it closer to Gwen's.

"I'll just go and get change into some fresh clothes, sire," Merlin announced and bounded out of the room.

Merlin got changed in record time. His magic helped reel in the exact clothes he wanted. Before putting on his neckerchief he checked in the mirror to see the progress his neck was making in healing; progress was good. He had a level of magnetism for trouble that had been the bane of his mother's life, but healed very quickly thanks to his magic as well as his mother's.

Hunith had lived in terror of Merlin losing control of his magic and accidently expose himself and so had taught herself some rudimentary magic in order to teach him. Originally her level of magical prowess was on par with Uther's; that is to say, non-existent. But as opposed to Uther, Hunith and worked hard. She'd found sliver of magic within her and nourished it, helping it grow. Merlin expected he would never really understand how hard she had worked, but he appreciated it enormously. He knew without the theory and small level of practical control Hunith was able to teach him very young he would not have lived long enough to be charging back down the steps in his room in Camelot to his two best friends and his adopted-uncle.

Merlin was still rather over-excited, so it took him a moment or two to realize something wasn't right in the main room.

"Alright, I'm good to go," he announced with a disorganised flourish which was admittedly more of an attempt at untangling his clothes. He looked up and noticed Arthur was standing again but stiff and puppet-like. Straight-backed Gwen was looking between Arthur and Gaius warily, like she was preparing herself to stop an imminent fist-fight between the two. Gaius…Merlin had never before seen an expression of such intensity on the man's gentle face. His eyes were narrowed and his brows contracted so hard they looked carved from stone and his mouth was a long line of disapproval; his hand holding his cup had fisted so hard the bones stood out white beneath his skin despite its many wrinkles and overlaps.

"What's going on?"

The tension lost focus and turned and looked at him.

"I…" Gaius said.

"Nothing," Arthur said.

_Something, _Gwen's eyes said.

Merlin took a few steps further into the room.

"Arthur?" He said in small voice.

Arthur breathed in deeply, looked away from Gaius and _smiled_ at Merlin. Not sure what was going on but with a leap of happiness in his stomach Merlin smiled in response and when Arthur turned and told him to follow he did. He was just exiting after Arthur when Gaius called his name softly.

"Merlin," Gaius said again, "be careful…"

"This is my last chance, Gaius," Merlin whispered. He hadn't understood Gaius' expression and his heart had quailed at the thought that Gaius might somehow ruin what Arthur was offering him.

"Do not spoil it for me."

Arthur made Merlin take him around the castle and show him where he'd spelled or charmed Camelot.

Merlin had never, _never, _had anyone talk to him who was honestly curious about his magic.

His mother had always been fearful of how it may betray her son and though she had expressed genuine interest sometimes Merlin had always known part of her remained reserved, sceptical, suspicious...not of him, of course, but of this alien world he was a part of.

Gaius was similarly fearful, to the point of paranoia, but had the occasional outburst of an analytic wish to study his magic like some scientific experiment.

Lancelot may have been curious, but the only times he was actually around Camelot he was distracted by knighthood, Gwen or whichever coup de ta currently underway.

Gwen treated it like it was a weird ability, like if he could lick his elbow (he couldn't, he'd tried.) She acknowledged it but didn't really want to talk about it.

Will, though a treasured friend, had admittedly only ever been curious about what Merlin's magic could do in relation to mischief.

The closest Merlin had ever come to having a person genuinely interested in his magic to talk to was Edwin, and he'd turned out to be a crazed, murderous maniac.

Though Merlin knew Arthur's interest about the spells on the castle was due to his identity as prince he still felt the elated feeling one gets when a close friend is fascinated by something one finds fascinating. He couldn't resist throwing in small anecdotes about other magic-involving adventures and when Arthur inquired deeper into these small stories as though he was interested Merlin felt like he could've flown, like he was already flying.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen watched Merlin and Arthur leave with confused trepidation.

They had been sitting at Gaius' and Merlin's table. Gaius had been making her tea with some infusions for her aching throat; he said that the inside of her throat was damaged by the stomach acid she'd been retching up. She'd given him a look that said, in no uncertain terms, that she did not want to know about throat damage, stomach acid or retching whilst having breakfast. Half way through this expression Gwen heard the distant, unmistakeably Merlin shout of,

"Gaius! Gaius!"

Suddenly all of the crockery had been rattling like possessed things. Gwen had let go of her cup in fright but it had gentled and, as Gaius yelled at Merlin and shoots sprung up all over the room, the mug sidled back to Gwen's hand. It rubbed tentatively against her, like a dog wanting a pat. Still nervous Gwen reached out and ran a hand perplexedly over it. The cup rattled slightly…was it _purring?_

Looking up from her baffling cup, which she was now cradling like a kitten (despite the angle the liquid did not fall out, a fact she was avoiding thinking about,) Gwen immediately knew what had happened from the expression on Merlin's face. It was the sort of expression that makes whoever is looking at it want to smile and celebrate as well.

No joy that immense could be impure.

No joy that all-consuming could harm anyone.

Gwen grinned; Arthur must have forgiven Merlin.

"Merlin, pull your head in," the physician ordered. Smiling in embarrassment but still flushed with happiness Merlin hugged Gaius, lifting him off the ground for a moment much to the old man's indignation, then embraced Gwen. Laughing, Gwen hugged him back, but felt him stiffen.

"Sorry, ugh…about that…" Merlin straightened and Gwen noticed Arthur was present. As Merlin rose the plates and cups fell silent and the random shoots stopped growing. Gwen felt a small, illogical pang of sadness when her cup fell quiet and became nothing more than an object again. She pushed it away.

"Does that happen often?" Arthur's voice sounded like he was being mildly strangled. Gwen frowned as she looked at him; when he had visited earlier she'd received no adequate explanation about the marks on his face.

"No, um…it's never happened before, actually," Merlin said. Gaius shot him a look and he back tracked.

"Well, not as badly…perpetual fear of having one's head lopped off has a way of dampening one's spirits."

Looking up at him Gwen could see him grin, but could also see him swallow nervously. Probably noticing his ward's anxiety as well Gaius pulled out a chair and offered to make Arthur some tea.

As Merlin said, "I'll just go and get change into some fresh clothes, sire," and bounded from the room Arthur dragged the chair closer to Gwen and sat down in it.

"How are you?" He said, touching her hand.

"I'm much better," she said. Her voice was slightly raspy but her honesty was unmistakable. "I just…what happened to your face, Arthur?"

She reached up to touch him but Arthur jerked away. She didn't press after him, he could have his secrets. With a sigh she sat back, then smiled and said,

"Well…now that you've forgiven Merlin, I'm much, much better."

Arthur looked at where their hands held each other and said nothing.

"You have forgiven him, haven't you?" Gaius asked in a strange tone, lacking his customary 'sire.' Arthur looked up with his 'prince' expression.

"That is between Merlin and me, Gaius."

Gaius turned away from the bench, cup in hand.

"No it isn't," he said in an uncharacteristically hard voice, "not when what is between you and Merlin could very well _hurt _Merlin."

Gwen looked between them, Arthur had tensed like he was about to be attacked.

"Arthur," she said, squeezing his hand, "you don't want to hurt Merlin, don't you?"

Her heart clenched and shrunk with fear, but grew again when Arthur said, albeit brusquely,

"Of course not."

"Why the change of heart?" Gaius persisted, stepping towards Arthur.

"He saved Gwen with magic," Arthur patted Gwen's hand absently, "when my…when my father tried to kill her."

Gwen squeezed his hand again.

"And has your father also had a change of heart?"

"My father…will follow my lead on this."

Gaius eyebrow jerked upwards.

"I am familiar with Pendragons'," he said in a hiss like a viper, "and the closest your father has ever come to having a change of heart was to go from being occasionally murderous to committing mass genocide."

Arthur slammed to his feet, hand jerking from Gwen's grasp, and Gaius shifted the cup in his hand as if he were seriously contemplating throwing it at the prince.

"You are _way _out of line, physician!" Arthur snarled. Gwen tried to reach for him but he snapped away violently.

"Am I? Or have I just hit too close to home?" Gaius stepped forwards, hefting the cup. "_Are _you giving him a second chance?"

Arthur didn't respond.

"Are you?" Gaius demanded, but his hardened tone was weakening into horror. Gwen felt a surge of fear, _what was Arthur doing?_ There was a new sickness now, of doubt, of knowledge, of fear for a loved one and, worse, fear _of _a loved one.

"Are you?" She echoed, but Arthur didn't seem to hear them.

And then Merlin bounded into the room and any chance that they may crack through Arthur's façade and learn the truth was lost.

"Alright," Merlin flailed, "I'm good to go."

He noticed the tension in the room. Gwen saw his eyebrows contract as he saw the antagonistic stances and expression of the men and the alertness, the wariness, in her posture.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Arthur and Gaius looked away from each other to him, then back at each other.

"I…" Gaius started, but Arthur overrode him.

"Nothing."

Were they supposed to tell Merlin what they suspected? Confused, Gwen looked quickly to Gaius, but Gaius was looking at the Prince with eyes that wanted to turn out all of his secrets. Merlin descended his steps and moved towards them.

"Arthur?" He said, and Gwen, watching Gaius, saw the old man close his eyes in resignation. Her head snapped around to Arthur was smiling at Merlin. Over the past week Merlin had been starving for the prince's smiles and the sudden offering of one drove the uneasiness from his face so he could beam back.

"Come on, Merlin," Arthur said, still smiling. The smile, and the friendship it promised (please don't let it be lying) pulling on Merlin's heartstrings and he followed Arthur to the door.

When Arthur had disappeared through the door Gaius regained his voice through the power of desperation.

"Merlin," Gaius said, "be careful…"

"This is my last chance, Gaius, do not ruin it for me," Merlin responded harshly, eyes uncharacteristically hard. Gwen could see where the hardness came from, there was fear in him.

Shivering she made to stand but her legs were weak and wouldn't get beneath her so she was powerless to stop Merlin from turning and leaving, which was exactly what he did.

As though the strength had suddenly abandoned him Gaius fell into his chair, the cup clattering away across the table.

"Gaius," Gwen whispered fearfully, reaching for him. But Gaius was just cradling his head in his hands.

"Something's wrong," he said in a quavering, old man's voice, "something is very wrong."


	7. Chapter 7: Stories and lies

**Hello every-peoples, **

**I hope you are all well.**

**Here's chapter 7, bit of a long chapter, making up for last week being a not-as-long chapter. I've also only just realised the page-breaks I inserted in word don't turn up here, so apologies if past chapters have seemed set out oddly. I've just figured out how to add lines here, so hopefully this will be laid out a bit better.**

**Though I want the story to be self-contained and I don't want it to need explaining in the author's notes or anything, I will say this, it's building up to something. **

**And as a little teaser, a bit like 'next week in 'Until forever ends…' if this was a bad TV drama, I'll tell you now that the next chapter is called 'The beginning of the end.'**

**Saying that is either very nice of me or very mean of me. **

**Chapter 7: Stories and lies. **

**::Arthur::**

De ja vu's kept creeping up on Arthur like long lost friends, greeting him and startling him with sudden familiarity in a world that had recently become a foreign place. This familiarity alarmed him because a large part of him, his heart, _welcomed _the familiarity, had _missed _it.

Shivering, Arthur walked faster. Merlin jogged after him.

De ja vu.

Damn it!

Merlin is a sorcerer, Arthur berated his mind savagely in a voice not unlike his father's, and he is _not your friend. _But there was a terrible, terrible part of him that smiled at this chance to be friend's again, through the magic and everything else. This part of him was small and quiet but Arthur couldn't silence it nor could he hide from it what he had hidden from himself, which was that what he really wanted to do was be friends with Merlin again. He wouldn't allow himself to admit that this deception act was just an excuse to do this without betraying his father or the wounded, unforgiving part of his heart beating out of time.

Because, and he'd never forgive himself for this, he understood why Merlin had lied.

Arthur ran a hand through his hair with a small groan.

"You alright, Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"Yeah," he replied shortly. It was easier to sound angry then confused, it was easier to _feel _angry then confused. Arthur felt Merlin looking at him and was abruptly self-conscious about where his father had hit his face. Bruises had blossomed around the cuts, just because the cuts weren't punishment enough according to the universe.

They had looked around the castle with Merlin pointing out all of the spells he had placed on it. Or most of them, Merlin admitted he had cast so many he wasn't sure that he'd remembered all of them. A thought that scared Arthur a lot and maybe thrilled him a little.

Now Arthur was returning to his chambers; on his way he ordered a passing servant to take his midday meal to his room immediately.

Arthur had gotten into such a habit recently of slamming every door he came across, whether he was walking through it or not was irrelevant, that he had to stem the urge now or he'd knock Merlin flat. He wanted to do that for the laughs, as he once would've done, but also out of pure, savage vindictiveness.

The same part of him that would've gotten immense pleasure from breaking Merlin's nose was enjoying Arthur's deception. After the lies Merlin had told him, _he _deserved to be told a few. It was Merlin's turn to have his hopes built up only to be brought crashing down on broken knees. Arthur_ deserved_ to hurt Merlin, and to hurt him badly…because surely doing so would heal Arthur's own broken heart and make his confusion and pain less.

Arthur was too restless to sit down and so leant against his window sill. He could hear Merlin moving awkwardly around his room and smirked, knowing how wrong footed his former servant would be feeling.

"See how clean my room is now?" Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow into a carefully constructed look of indolence, "that's how it looks when a _real _servant cleans it."

Arthur's room had jolted Merlin out of his joy; he now stood, uncertain and unsure. Arthur had noticed Merlin progressively losing his excitement and become increasingly anxious the longer they had walked.

Hovering somewhere in the middle of the room (well not _hovering, _though Arthur bet he could've if he'd wanted to) Merlin looked at his hands, rubbing them together, bone slotting besides bone in poses of habitual worry. Now that Arthur noticed it, Merlin had many nervous habits he'd never seen before. He kept looking around, eyes darting into the corners of the room, and he wouldn't stop grinding his hands into each other. Through his cruel happiness Arthur felt, deep inside, a stab of regret. Before he could stop himself he said,

"Oh, stop looking so distressed. I don't hate you because you couldn't press the sheets properly, or whatever."

He threw the 'or whatever' on the end, just in case Merlin thought Arthur had become learned in the ways of household chores.

Despite his somewhat unplanned efforts at reassurance (deception! He was _deceiving _him…through reassurance…somehow…it was very cunning) Merlin still looked worried and miserable. But at least now he was looking at Arthur through his worry and misery.

"Oh, what is it?" Arthur snapped, slightly embarrassed that he cared.

"I know you didn't hate me because of the pressed sheets_,_" Merlin looked back at his hands.

"I don't…hate you because of anything else, either."

Arthur wasn't sure if he was lying or not, wasn't sure if he was being deceiving or vulnerable. He looked away, feeling awkward, but suddenly stepped forwards as the question burst out of him.

"But _why? _Why did you do it? _Why did you lie? _You could've told me! You could've trusted me!"

"I've never told anyone," Merlin responded, his voice much calmer then Arthur's. "It's nothing you're lacking in, I've _never _told _anyone._"

"Gaius?" Arthur shot at him.

"I saved his life," Merlin shrugged.

"Will?"

"I knew him before I knew I had to hide it."

"I suppose your mother knew because she was your mother," Arthur allowed him begrudgingly.

"Yes."

"So…those are the only people who knew? Knows?"

Merlin took a deep breath.

"Excluding all the random people trying to take over Camelot…Lancelot knows."

"What?" Arthur said sharply, pushing himself upright.

"Lancelot," Merlin looked up, "he knows."

"You told Lancelot before you…"

"I've already said that I never told anybody," Merlin said firmly, "Lancelot saw me defeat the griffin. It was an accident! I didn't mean for him to see."

"_You _defeated the griffin?" Arthur couldn't help the insultingly sceptical tone in his voice.

Striking his chin out defiantly Merlin replied,

"Griffin's can only be defeated with magic."

Arthur had no response to that. He leant back onto the window sill, heart still thudding angrily (jealously) at the knowledge that Lancelot had known about Merlin's magic before he had.

"I feel like I hardly know you," Arthur said. There was a long pause.

"I feel like I hardly know you, too," Merlin finally said. Arthur looked around, confused and curious.

"What do you mean?" He said, both aggressively and defensively.

Merlin rubbed his hands together again.

"I never thought you'd try to kill me," Merlin admitted. Arthur looked at his neckerchief at the point where he knew it covered the cut on his throat.

"You lied before I attacked you," Arthur said defensively. Merlin looked up.

"I also saved your life before you attacked me. There are things worse than lying, Arthur."

_There are things worse than lying…_

"Especially when that lying is done with truly good intentions, out of necessity to do the right thing."

_Lies told with good intentions? _

Did that excuse apply to Arthur? Did he have good intentions?

"Are you trying to get me to apologise?" Arthur snapped angrily, gesturing at his own neck, indicating the place where he had cut Merlin's.

"No," Merlin said softly, "I'm just saying that nobody's perfect, not me, not you. Stop acting like you are the only one who has ever been wronged."

The cuts on Arthur's face twinged and, forgetting that he was supposed to be befriending Merlin, he asked sardonically.

"That's not _self-pity _I hear, is it?"

"No," Merlin looked up at him through his black fringe, "I know there are people worse off than me...worse off than the both of us."

Looking away Arthur reflected that pretending to be Merlin's friend was almost as hard as actually being his friend…

"I'm not mad at you Arthur, I'm just being honest. That's what you want, honesty. Remember?"

Arthur took a shuddering breath, remembering how _easy_ it was to be Merlin's friend. He'd been fooling himself, pretending was way harder. The strength it took…to keep himself pretending, to remind himself that this was fake…he didn't know if he was strong enough. He didn't know if he wanted to be.

"Yes," he eventually replied, "honesty…that's what I want…"

"Me as well," Merlin said and Arthur couldn't meet his gaze.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin felt he should've been taking greater care not to irritate or disagree with Arthur but couldn't help himself from saying all that he'd been forced to hold back for years and years.

He felt that now he had the chance to do it, it was his duty to catch Arthur up on all of the things he never said, for all of the people he had never spoken for. He owed it to these people, whose oppression had lasted, and would last, every day of Merlin's silence. Now that he and Arthur were talking maybe he could finally do what he had been made for, maybe he could finally _change the world. _

Merlin rubbed his face in his hands for a moment and smiled into his palms.

He finally had a chance to set things right with Arthur. He was getting the second chance he had always dreamed of. Standing, he looked around his room. It was the day after Arthur's Forgiveness (his mind had somehow appointed that title to the previous day) and Arthur had told him the day before to be ready for an early morning ride.

Locating his best clothes, which actually looked very similar to his usual clothes, but had been cleaned specially for today, Merlin pulled them on quickly. He also checked that his neckerchief covered the new scar on his neck, bending and twisting a few times to make sure it wouldn't shift during the day.

Day pack that doubled as a herb bag for Gaius in hand Merlin bounded down his steps into the main room. When he landed on the floor he looked up and found himself on the receiving end of an admonishing glance from Gaius.

He made a 'what?' expression with his face.

Gaius flicked his eyes to the patient cot where Gwen was still sleeping.

"Oh," Merlin said softly to himself with an apologetic expression. She'd been asleep by the time he'd returned the night before but Gaius had told Merlin she had wanted to return to her home in the town. Though he was sure she would be okay Gaius wanted to keep her where he could treat her instantly should something occur.

"What are you doing up so early?" Gaius asked in a hoarse whisper, dragging Merlin to the opposite side of the room by his elbow.

"Ow, lego-a-me," Merlin protested, reaching for a bread roll on the counter and taking an enormous bite out of it in one movement.

"Merlin, that was my breakfast!" Gaius said, pointing at the plate of fruit and cheese that had been net to it.

"Oh…whoops!" Merlin gulped. His magic flashed and another roll flew from the cupboard and happily buttered itself for Gaius. Gaius frowned.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

Pausing in his straining against Gaius' hold on him, Merlin replied,

"Arthur wants to go on a ride early today."

He stuffed the rest of Gaius' former roll into his mouth.

"Merlin," Gaius' face had become an anxious thing, "you need to be careful."

Merlin rolled his eyes.

"This again," he said after swallowing enormously to clear his mouth of bread.

"Yes, this again," Gaius hissed, "I know Arthur, I know Uther, there's more to this then it seems."

"Maybe you're just expecting the worst of them?" Merlin said, moving to the cupboards and grabbing some food from them.

"Maybe you're not thinking clearly because you _want _to believe him!" There was no 'them' in Gaius words, he knew Merlin cared little of the king's personal opinion about him.

"Of course I want to believe him," Merlin snapped quietly.

"Please, Merlin, trust me, something isn't _right _here. I know you want Arthur to forgive you…"

"He _has _forgiven me!"

"But Arthur…he wouldn't forgive you this quickly, this easily. I've known him for a lot longer than you, Merlin. He's a good person but he _holds grudges _and no one has given him more of a reason to hold a grudge then _you,_" Gaius reached for Merlin's arm.

"Arthur's a good man," Merlin said staunchly, resentfully letting Gaius grasp his arm, "he wouldn't lie to me."

"You lied to him! He won't have forgotten that."

"Yeah, but he knows why I lied to him. He understands, he doesn't hate me, he told me he doesn't."

"He is his father's son!"

"His blood relation doesn't define who he is!" Merlin replied irritably, searching for a water skin.

"No, but he idolizes his father. He has lived his entire life at Uther's hand, learning how to see the world as Uther sees it. _Wanting _to please him. And Uther would never let you go this easily. Please Merlin, listen to me," Gaius gripped Merlin's arm so hard he couldn't move, "you can't trust either of them, not with magic, not with yourself."

Merlin yanked his arm free.

"One of the reasons Arthur was so mad at me was because I hadn't trusted him! I'm not going to ruin my last chance by having reservations! It's all or nothing, and I am all in."

With that he turned and strode across the room, slipping through the door quietly and closing it with gentle finality.

* * *

Merlin arrived at the stables and was relieved to see their two usual horses already saddled and waiting. He wouldn't have minded saddling them himself if there wasn't the chance Arthur would misconstrue Merlin completing a servant's task as one of the thousand harmful things Arthur could misconstrue it as. A stable-hand stood between them, holding the reins gently in hands that trembled at the sight of Merlin. Ignoring it Merlin inclined his head politely at the girl, knowing how discouraging it could be to never be acknowledged for your labours as a servant, and then looked around for Arthur.

"Not late for once," said a voice from the shadows. Merlin jumped and looked around, unable to help the convulsive clenching of his fists when he saw the bared blade in the prince's hands. His gaze flicked from knife to man to knife and he swallowed; the scar on his neck prickled.

"Morning," he said in a passable imitation at a normal voice.

But Arthur had been trained to notice everything about the people around him, lying twitches in nobles to murderous hands in villains, and he abruptly shoved the knife into its scabbard.

The anger of the gesture was evident. The stable-hand looked at the floor.

"You still don't trust me," Arthur said in a conversational tone, taking the reins of his horse from the girl. Merlin took his as well, allowing her to make the retreat she oh so evidently desired, and frowned.

"It's a reflex, I can't help it. If someone snapped their hand at your face you would flinch, even if you trusted them."

They walked their horses into the empty courtyard.

"Surely if you _really _trusted someone..." Arthur said, trailing off as he swung up into the saddle. Merlin's bay, who was called Acorn by the servants, had turned her head around, pushing him for the treats she was accustomed to. He did not fail to provide.

"You can still get caught off guard. I mean, if someone I trusted warned me they were about to almost hit my face I'd probably be able to keep still. But you need the warning."

Scrambling into his saddle with much less dignity then Arthur Merlin leant forwards and offered Acorn another soft crust of bread. She gladly nibbled it from his hands and chewed patiently as he arranged himself into a cringe-worthy riding posture. It was a mark of Arthur's distraction that he didn't look upon Merlin with a mortified expression.

Merlin sighed and nudged Acorn with his heels. She and Fallourn, Arthur's mount (named after a long lost king, though Merlin wasn't sure how a whole country could _lose _a king,) stepped out at the same time out of habit, even as their riders tested the waters. Whilst Merlin didn't miss the sometimes arrogant way Arthur would treat him when he was a servant, he did miss the easiness. He had never been a threat to Arthur; he hadn't even wanted the job, so there was no fear of ulterior motives.

Not until he outed himself as a sorcerer, that is.

But whilst he might miss the easiness, but this was a start.

* * *

Yes, Merlin thought when Arthur finally noticed the position of Merlin's heels and berated him for jabbing the horse ever second step, yes…this was a start.

They were on one of the forest paths, the canopy striping the air with soft gold and green light, when their slightly forced banter trailed off. Merlin didn't know where they were going or if Arthur even had a destination in mind. Arthur did his best thinking on the move so Merlin was willing to ride all day even though he didn't share Arthur's aptitude of thinking whilst horse-riding; he spent most of the time trying not to fall off.

Arthur was looking away and fiddling with his reins, making Fallourn jitter irritably, and Merlin looked around for something to use to break the silence.

"Is that your father's hunting knife?" He said with unfeigned curiosity, noticing for the first time that Arthur was not wearing his usual hunting knife, but his father's. Looking down, Arthur twisted to see the knife strapped to his lower back.

His had a red leather-bound handle with brushed bronze on the hilt and pommel. A bold thing, yet not a brash thing.

Uther's knife had a polished, golden hilt with a great ruby inlaid in the pommel. The handle of his was not leather but black metal.

Arthur would sometimes use his to cut up tinder for the fire but Merlin doubted Uther's knife had been used for anything other than killing. It was a hard thing that reminded Merlin very much of Uther himself.

"Oh, yes," Arthur said, looking away from the knife, "he gave it to me."

Merlin was surprised; the only things he'd ever heard of Uther giving Arthur were admonishing rants.

"When did he do that?" Merlin asked.

"A while ago," Arthur said evasively.

"Why?" Merlin didn't think he was being invasive as he knew Arthur would've been over the moon about being trusted with his father's hunting knife. In fact, he was surprised he hadn't heard about it before now as it should've been gossip in the servants at least.

"He said it was a reminder…" Arthur said in a quiet voice, and when Merlin looked up he saw a strange expression on his face before Arthur turned away.

"A reminder for what?" Merlin asked. Arthur didn't answer.

After a long pause Arthur asked.

"Did your father ever give you anything…sentimental?"

Merlin thought for a moment before drawing something out of his pack with a tendril of magic.

"My mother gave me this when I was very young."

Merlin held the small wooden disk up to eye level, looking at it fondly, before tossing it lightly to Arthur. Surprised, Arthur held the reins in one hand and caught it with the other. He looked at the small symbol carved into it.

"What's the symbol mean?" He asked.

"It's from her religion," Merlin replied, catching the disk mainly with his magic when Arthur threw it back.

"You said you found out who your father was?" Arthur asked tentatively.

The birds were singing, Merlin tilted his head up, taking deep breaths gently so Arthur wouldn't see he needed them to steady himself. He wondered if there were birds where his father had gone…he wondered where one went when one died.

Were there birds?

Or was there endless nothing?

Personally, he thought (hoped) there would be birds.

"Merlin?"

Merlin looked around; it had become such a rarity for Arthur to call him by name.

"When?" Arthur asked, not needing an affirmative answer to his earlier question because Merlin had already told him he had several days ago.

"Few years ago," Merlin said, then forced out through the chambers of his constricting heart, "it was…I mean, he was Balinor."

"Balinor?" Arthur said in a searching tone.

"You forgot him, didn't you?" Merlin said quietly. Arthur didn't answer.

"The dragonlord," Merlin supplied.

"The _dragonlord?_" Arthur remembered.

"Gaius told me just before we left to find him," Merlin would've scuffed the ground with his shoe but riding a horse made this rather difficult, "when he wouldn't come back with us I told him. It was the only reason he came back."

It was the only reason he ended up dying…but Merlin couldn't say that. He could barely survive thinking it. Arthur, though undoubtedly shocked, must've realised Merlin's distress because he tried to say lightly,

"Well, now you can call yourself 'Merlin Balinorson."

He spoke of the tradition amongst both peasantry and nobility of identifying oneself by one's first name followed by their father's name. Some peasants had the arrogance of nobles when it came to lineage.

"No," Merlin said softly, "I am Merlin Hunithson."

"But…" Arthur said, eyebrows contracting, looking closely at Merlin. Amongst peasants a female last-name was the mark of a bastard.

"Balinor was…I hardly knew him. I am sad that he died, but…I don't even know how to grieve him properly because, truly, I didn't know him. His reasons for leaving may have been noble, but he still left. My mother raised me; she cared for me and taught me to grow into who I am today. I don't care about social stigma, it's baseless anyway. I am Merlin Hunithson, not Merlin Balinorson."

Arthur was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry I lied about Balinor," Merlin sighed to the sky.

Arthur looked up.

"I don't think it was wrong," Merlin continued softly, "but if it caused you pain…I am sorry."

Arthur looked away, then back again.

"I don't…yesterday, when you were talking about how lying can be, you know, good. I don't really get…what did you mean?" Arthur spoke to Fallourn's ears.

Merlin thought for a moment.

"If you tell lies to protect people, if you lie out of love…I think that's noble. You are protecting a greater truth, in a way."

"That just sounds like something you'd say to sleep at night," Arthur interrupted, but in a conversational tone, not accusatory. Merlin grinned self-deprecatingly.

"I won't say that was not partly my motives, but I had _years _to think about it. I was doing the _right thing. _I'm not saying that lies are necessary evils; I don't believe doing evil things can serve a greater good. I am saying that the lies weren't evil. I think the matter is more complicated than that."

"So you don't think lying is wrong?" Arthur said in an odd tone.

"Lying can certainly be done with evil intent and be wrong. But it depends on your motive and the situation. I do not believe my lies were wrong as they were the only way to protect innocent, good people. I guess it sounds like I am trying to excuse all lying, I'm not. Most of the time lying is wrong, and I do not condone it. But sometimes…sometimes…to tell the truth would be worse, because telling the truth would get innocent people killed. When it's a question of protecting innocent people from those who mean wrong, if lying is what would protect them, I think it's the right thing to do. Does that make sense?"

"You've been spending too long with Gaius," Arthur laughed, "You're getting all psychological on me."

But he didn't laugh for long and Merlin berated himself for his words when he saw the troubled expression settle on Arthur's face.

* * *

The further the horses went the easier it became to both talk and to sit in silence. At one point they went charging off up a grassy hill, the horses manes snapping in their faces, then laughed breathlessly together at the top when they noticed the food had been jostled out of Merlin's bag at the bottom of the hill. Merlin, with a hesitant glance at Arthur, flicked his hand and the food zoomed up the hill towards them. Arthur's breath caught for a moment, but when a roll accidentally smacked into Acorn's face and she shied, dumping Merlin on the ground, he couldn't stop the burst of laughter from getting out. Acorn stood to the side, shooting indignant looks at the roll on the ground, and Merlin swore as he pushed off of the ground, dusting himself off. Arthur just flopped all over his saddle with the most honest, carefree laugh Merlin had heard from him since this entire mess and begun.

* * *

They stopped for lunch on a similar sunlit hill, only this one had a wise old beech tree propped up at the top. They hobbled the horses' front legs so Acorn and Fallourn could graze as their humans ate. When Arthur initially sat he was upright, alert, but after a few moments made an unprovoked growl of exasperation and lounged in his usual sprawl.

He looked as if he was trying to take up as much space as possible, which Merlin said as much. Arthur grinned and rolled onto his back, but then wriggled back onto his side, wincing. One hand went behind him and drew the hunting knife from its sheath. The sheath fit snugly into the small of his back but the hard edged pommel and protuberant ruby had been digging into his back. The blade was as long and curved as a wicked smile.

"I appreciate the gesture," Arthur said after a pause he'd spent looking at the blade, "but it's not exactly conductive to comfort."

"A knife in the back rarely is," Merlin grinned cheekily and shocked a laugh from a startled Arthur.

* * *

On their way back they turned a corner and came upon an alarming scene. Two thickset men dressed in dirty black rags had backed a woman up against an overhang the path ran beneath and were advancing with jagged dirks in their hands. Black cloths covered their faces, leaving room only for their eyes which were pinched and mean. The woman was braced back against the cliff, dressed in a torn, pink gown, with one arm raised in a shaky spell casting gesture though no magic issued forth.

"Hey, sorceress," one of the men was saying in a loud, carrying voice, "want me to work some magic on you?"

Both men suddenly turned, having heard the two horses thundering towards them. The scene had not caught Arthur off guard as much as it had Merlin, so Arthur had already struck a man over the head with the pommel of his sword and crowded the other to the ground with Fallourn by the time Merlin was swinging off Acorn next to the woman. Getting between the woman and the fight Merlin turned back, hands raised, but Arthur was driving the men off already. The men leapt down off the path and sprinted away through the trees and Arthur turned, obviously wanting to check that the woman was okay more than he wanted to catch the men, and returned to the scene. When he arrived he swung down from Fallourn, who was blowing slightly from the excitement.

"Are you alright," he asked the woman in what Merlin thought was an unnecessarily stiff voice. The woman didn't seem to notice.

"Yes sire."

"Did you know those men?" Arthur asked in the same odd voice. The woman looked up at Merlin.

"Could you identify them if they were brought before the crown for sentencing?" Merlin said gently.

"No," the woman clutched at her shawls as if they might protect her, "I know those men only through rumour and common knowledge, not by sight. They've been staking out this road for a while. I knew they wanted to stop me because…"

She stopped with an exaggerated look of terror at Arthur.

"Are you a sorceress?" Arthur asked in a lowered voice. Merin frowned as he listened to his magic.

"No…I…only…" The woman looked around wildly.

"It's okay, we saw you going to cast a spell. I…" Arthur gave Merlin a sidelong look, "have learnt to be more…open minded…in regards to sorcery."

"Why didn't somebody come to the King and tell him there were thugs on the road?" Merlin asked. The woman looked from Merlin to Arthur, back to Merlin.

"I…they…only go for…sorcerers and sorceresses...or people they think use magic…" She glanced at Arthur, "the King…"

"The King's opinion of magic is changing," Arthur said.

"So I'm not going to be executed? You're not going to kill me?" She said hopefully to Arthur.

"No," Arthur said in a tone Merlin still couldn't place.

"What is your name?" Merlin asked. He had been waiting for Arthur to ask, but Arthur was giving no signs of doing so. The woman glanced at the prince before saying.

"Elenor."

"Would you like to come before court and initiate a search for those men?" Arthur asked.

"No thank you, sire," Elenor said, "I just want to go home."

"Where do you live?" Arthur asked.

"An estate, closer to Camelot."

"Well, Camelot is where we are going, so you can come with us."

Arthur dismounted and let Elinor ride Fallourn. He walked beside her all of the way from the forest to Elinor's estate. She thanked them when they arrived at the modest stone building, and waved at them from the steps to the front door as they left. The estate had been a little out of Arthur and Merlin's way, but not terribly so.

As soon as they were out of eyesight of the estate Merlin turned to Arthur and said,

"Elinor had no magic."

"What?" Arthur said, startled into an immediate response.

"Elinor, she had no magic."

"I thought you said everyone had magic," Arthur pointed out.

"Well, yes, but she had no more than an untrained babe, or, you know, you. If she used magic it would've grown or refined; it hadn't. Elinor has never used magic."

"How can you tell?" Arthur said curiously, ducking beneath a low hanging branch.

"I can sense it," Merlin said simply. Arthur looked slightly deflated.

"I thought she had magic," Arthur said.

"Yes," Merlin said, turning to Arthur, "you did. And you protected her anyway."

Arthur looked back at him with a small, lost expression.

"If she didn't have any why didn't she just say so?"

"Fright, I expect. Being accused of sorcery is as dangerous for non-sorcerers as it is for sorcerers. More so, in fact, as a non-sorcerer would have much less chance of escaping. I suppose she didn't want to deny it too much because she thought she'd look guilty, " Merlin shrugged sadly and turned to Arthur."I know you didn't do it for me, but it means a lot to me anyway, Arthur."

Arthur suddenly found Fallourn's mane very interesting.

"The man probably only called her a sorceress because they saw us coming," Merlin said more briskly, trying to bring Arthur back into the conversation.

"Why would they do that?" Arthur asked.

"Well, even if they didn't recognize you as the prince, you are obviously a noble or a knight of some kind," Merlin gestured at Arthur's clothing, Fallourn's expensive tack and the sword strapped to Arthur's waist, "and they probably thought that if they called her a sorceress we'd walk past and not bother them. A noble or knight would hardly bother to help a sorceress, or confront her tormentors. Their biggest worry was probably that we'd stop them from having their fun in order to put the boot in ourselves."

Arthur looked thoroughly disturbed.

"How do you know this?" He asked.

"I'm the peoples' protector, it's my job to know," Merlin said. He meant only what he said, but when the sentence was out of his mouth belatedly realised how Arthur would interpret it. Sure enough Arthur said.

"I'm the prince, and I didn't know."

Merlin sighed.

"I'm supposed to protect the people," Arthur said in a possessive tone, "I'm supposed to know the people."

"You were never taught how to know people, only how to rule them," Merlin said.

"My father…" Arthur began, indignantly.

"I'm not having a go at your father. He was also only ever taught to rule people, so he would not have been able to teach you any different. It's a problem with the system, not with him or you."

"I don't want to be a king who doesn't know his people. I don't want to be someone who…"

Arthur trailed off.

"You don't have to be any sort of king you don't want to be. If you feel like you don't know your people well enough there is a very simple solution," Merlin said.

"What's that?"

"Get to know them."

* * *

The people of the lower town didn't know how to react to the prince suddenly appearing amongst them. Many stopped in shadows or doorways and talked to each other, other just continued on doing whatever they were doing with a painful sort of concentration, evidently hoping the prince would ignore them if they ignored him.

Merlin and Arthur dismounted.

"I can hail a guard to take the horses back to the castle," Arthur said, looking around for a guard to hail.

"That won't be necessary," Merlin said, "follow me."

For once it was Arthur following Merlin. Merlin led him through the streets to a small inn in a back alley. With an expression like he was very much questioning the wisdom of what they were doing, Arthur led Fallourn around the back after Merlin.

There was a rail to tie the horses to and a stable boy who obviously had the job of caring for them.

Arthur took out a small silver piece and pressed it into the boy's hand, promising to pay him for the inns horse-keeping services only if the horses were still there when they got back.

"If those horses get stolen…" Arthur said, trailing off with a dire tone to Merlin when they left. Shoving his hands comfortably into his pockets Merlin replied,

"They won't. The Horse-tail Inn has carefully built a reputation for being one of the only places where none of your things will get stolen. It's a surprisingly rare trait amongst inns in the lower town, which means it charges a bit more. People will often willingly pay a little extra so they don't lose something much more expensive than a few gold coins."

"Like a horse, for instance," Arthur said, grumpily.

"Yes," Merlin grinned, "Don't worry, they'll be safe. Do you really think I'd leave Acorn and Fallourn somewhere a criminal would get them easily?"

"No," Arthur said, still grumpy.

"Marietta broke the nose of the last thief who tried to make off with a patrons horse."

"Marietta?"

"The inns cook."

"Oh…"

"The thief was a noble."

"Oh!"

"But she broke his nose."

"You said."

"With a loaf of bread."

"_Bread?_"

"It was quite stale."

"_Bread?_"

"I said they had good security, not good food."

"_Bread?!_"

"Okay, so maybe it was her fist inside the bread that did most of the nose-breaking."

"You could've just said that she punched someone in the face."

"Yeah, but the bread story is better."

Arthur rolled his eyes so dramatically it looked slightly painful.

"Lesson one on your people," Merlin said with mock seriousness, "they can break noses with bread."

"You're such an idiot," Arthur said.

Merlin grinned.

Merlin showed Arthur many things in the lower town that day. He went on ahead and, with the few who agreed, took Arthur to their homes and introduced him to some of Gaius patients. He tried not to be hurt by the relief they showed at Arthur's acceptance of Merlin after fearing their association with him for some time.

He showed Arthur where the stray dogs slept and calmed them with his magic so Arthur and he could descend safely into their den and play with their puppies.

He showed Arthur where the grumpy old man, Garry, kept watch from his front porch yelling at the children and the birds, then showed Arthur the basement he'd made to shelter people who were too far from home during sieges and attacks (Garry yelled at them all the while.)

Merlin then led Arthur up a sloped street so they could look down over the rooves and pointed out one roof completely covered in grass. There were five chairs nailed to the roof through the thin lawn.

"They call themselves the Rooftop Gang," Merlin said with a smile.

"I can't imagine why," Arthur said drolly, eyeing the rooftop, "they sound like some sort of crime fighting gang."

"Funny you should say that," Merlin commented, then told Arthur the story of the Bluebird Riots.

"You would know them as the Seven Bird Killings," He began, "but you were never told the whole story. There was a homeless girl who had a talent with birds. It wasn't sorcery; it was just a strange affinity with them, maybe she was related to the druids, I don't know. Anyway, bluebirds liked the most. She found an abandoned nest and raised them and from then on whenever she was begging or trying to find food or anything she had a few bluebirds with her. She became a bit of a novelty amongst the people. There was a…well…there was a barber's shop that wanted to…procure her…"

"A barber's shop?" Arthur said.

"On the street level it was called 'Jason's Cuts,' but on the upper level it was a brothel. You can probably imagine what he named it. Anyway, this Jason fellow wanted the bluebird girl because of her popularity. He thought she would bring good business and as she was homeless he thought it would be a simple matter of luring her in and then never letting her leave. Well, he almost succeeded, but the bluebird girl realised what he was doing and was able to get a message out with her birds when he had caught her. She had only been caught when the Rooftop Gang heard of it and went to 'Jason's Cuts.' The Rooftop Gang had a lot of friends and the together with them the Rooftop Gang went and freed the bluebird girl. Then through their various connections they got her a job with the carrier pigeon service for the castle. Jason wasn't too happy. He wanted revenge. Amongst the common people you can anonymously accuse somebody of being a sorcerer by painting a raven without a head on their door. Jason, being the, ugh, lovely fellow he was, went one step further. He got actual ravens and, ugh, cut off their heads and nailed them to the doors of the Rooftop Gang's houses. Sorcery always inspires terror in the common people," Merlin sighed, "and despite being well loved some of the member of the Rooftop Gang and a few of their closest allies got lynched. Seven people, all up. Then it was the Rooftop Gang and their friends against the rest of the lower town."

"The Seven Bird Killings," Arthur said thoughtfully.

"Yes, you know about the riots that followed and how the King sent in guards dressed as peasants to execute the perpetrators."

"They didn't…were the members of the Rooftop Gang…"

"No. The bluebird girl was able to get messages to other towns through the carrier pigeon service and find places where they could hide from the king. She went with them. Jason got executed, and his barber's shop was converted into an inn by the women he used to keep there. It doesn't do very well because of the stigma against the women there and the superstition that the place is haunted by crows, but it became a safe house for women with nowhere to go, and they teach self defense to anyone with need to defend themselves."

"Wow," Arthur said, looking down at the chairs on the roof, "that's a much more elaborate story then I heard in the courts."

"The world is an elaborate place," Merlin said, tipping his head back and letting his fringe shade his eyes from the sun, which was beginning to slip from the sky.

**::Arthur::**

They had stood on the hill for a little while when Merlin looked across at Arthur, frowned, then said,

"I learnt all of this by helping Gaius with healing."

Arthur wondered where this was going.

"I could…" Merlin, looking hesitant but hopefully, raised his hands to Arthur's face.

"What are you doing?" Arthur said, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on Merlin's hands.

"I helped Gaius with _healing_."

Arthur realised what Merlin meant and froze, looking wide eyed at Merlin. After a moment Merlin took Arthur's inaction for permission and touched his fingers, feather soft, to the cut's on Arthur's face.

Merlin's eyes closed and his brow furrowed. Fascinated, Arthur watched Merlin's closed lids twitch slightly as his eyes moved beneath the sockets.

The two wounds felt cool for a moment, then they itched. Suddenly the coolness, the itchiness, the pain, it all vanished. Merlin gasped, eyes blinking wide, stepping back.

"That's the first time I've done a face," he said, smiling.

"What?" Arthur squeaked, patting at his face with his hands. He looked around.

"Mirror…I need a mirror…a reflective surface…anything!"

Merlin rolled his eyes and dragged him over to a building with a metal lamp. Buffing it quickly with magic he dragged Arthur in front of it. Arthur checked his face frantically then…

They were gone. The cuts Uther's ring had left on his face were gone.

It was like they were never there.

"They're gone," he breathed.

He looked at Merlin. He didn't know what to say.

"I've never been great shakes at healing myself for some reason," Merlin mused. After a moment he seemed to realise Arthur was staring at him, rendered speechless by some powerful emotion Arthur couldn't identify.

Was Arthur supposed to tell Merlin where the cuts had come from? Had Merlin already guessed?

"It's just like magic," Merlin joked, smiling proudly at what must've been the worst joke he'd ever said. Merlin's expression softened, becoming understanding and kind, and Arthur didn't need to say a thing.


	8. Chapter 8: The beginning of the end

**Hello humans, **

**(Any aliens intercepting this story as it beams across the world…may I refer you to the UN?)**

**I hope you are doing well.**

**Small spoiler of content here: the bit with the potatoes? I wrote that before remembering the lord of the rings potato-name-confusion scene. Feel free to imagine the characters of Sam (best character ever!) or Smeagol (the slimeball) sitting in Camelot, enjoying some potato-based banter.**

**Or…you know…not.**

**I really won't insist. **

**This story is going for longer than I expected. It's weird writing a few chapters ahead then coming back and going 'oh, so this is what I'm uploading ****' **

**Also, I'm a bad person. I used a first person pronoun in a story told in third person. It's just I liked how it sounded and nothing else would've worked! Somewhere my English teachers spidey-senses will be going through the roof. **

**About the next chapter…well…I won't say anything except it took me a lot of walking up and down the dirt road near my place thinking about how things would go down.**

**Thanks for all of the reviews! I read every one of them and really appreciate the support! **

**And now, because I have been rabbling on for way too long,**

**Chapter 8!**

* * *

**Chapter 8: The beginning of the end**

**::Arthur::**

Arthur sat on his windowsill, back braced against the right side and feet propped against the left, staring moodily out at the city he hardly knew. He was supposed to have reported to his father about his progress with Merlin trusting him but instead he had chosen to stare out at the city. Somehow it felt more productive.

His door had been locked and the guards had been under express orders to let nobody in, so when the lock clicked loudly and the door swung open he knew without looking around that the person entering was his father.

"Arthur," his father said loudly, "you're alive."

At this Arthur turned and said to his father, who was approaching open-armed,

"You would've never sent me if you thought Merlin would kill me."

Uther didn't look taken aback, as Arthur had expected and perhaps hoped. Instead he embraced Arthur, pulling him around to face him.

"There is always a risk in war."

"War?" Arthur said disgustedly, pushing Uther off him. He touched the place on his cheek where the two thick scratches had healed. Just because they were no longer there didn't mean he couldn't feel them.

Uther's eyes followed Arthur's hand but his expression did not change when he saw Arthur's smooth, healed cheek.

"This is no war. Merlin means us no harm. Merlin healed me where you-"

"Arthur, Arthur," Uther overrode him, "don't you remember? He spelled you to think so. He spelled you so you would believe him, not me; so that you would believe that he is harmless and not a threat."

This was the argument Arthur found hardest to combat, for anything he said could be caused by this spell Uther kept insisting was upon him. It also always made him doubt himself; it was a lot like his father in that way.

Unlike Arthur, Uther was always so sure of himself…

"He's not evil," Arthur said, shaking his head to try and clear it, "he cares about people. He cares about everyone. He protects them, he's protected me, us. Those three actors we set up to make him trust me with magic? Despite what he thought was a very real risk he got in there straight away and stood between the actress and the actors. We saw him do almost the same thing before, protecting us from Mordred…"

"No, no," Uther gripped Arthur's face with both of his hands now and Arthur was forced to his feet; Uther would never kneel to look him in the eye.

"That was an act. He and Mordred set that up so we would believe that he is on our side, so that we let down our guard. He spelled you to-"

"Spell or no spell," Arthur pushed Uther's hands off his jaw, "I'm not happy deceiving him anymore. Find somebody else to do it. I want nothing to do with your plans."

Uther's face was blank not out of expressionlessness but out of hidden feelings. After a moment, eyebrows rallying, Uther managed to look concerned.

"Arthur, my plan is to prove to you that he is not being honest. If he was being honest my plan would prove it, you would know when he has been bled that he has no spell over you. This is, of course, impossible, but hold that in your mind when you find yourself doubting me, for that is an surety his spell will allow. This plan is for the greater good."

"But if he is being honest," Arthur turned away to look out the window, "and I deceive him so I can knock him out and he can have his blood-let…I have done that needlessly, I have deceived and injured an innocent man…my friend!"

"If you're feeling squeamish," Uther said now with a palpable touch of annoyance, "let somebody else knock him unconscious and bleed him."

"I'm not squeamish about seeing the plan done; I doubt the plan itself!" Arthur protested.

"You are trusting yourself too much. Remember how the spell undermines you?" Uther said.

"How do I know this spell isn't a lie you made up to get me to do what you say?" Arthur suddenly snapped; a second later his mind recoiled on itself, but there was no bringing back the words. Uther looked angry and insulted and stepped back, rising up into his King stance.

"I am your _father, _I am the _king. _I don't need lies when I have the truth on my side. It seems I alone can see the sorcerer's plan."

"But if you alone can see it, doesn't that mean you could be mistaken, and the truth is what the rest of us think?" Arthur asked, forcing his voice to sound calm, reasonable, something Uther might listen to.

"I _know _I am right. Would I _know _I was right if I was wrong? If I was wrong wouldn't I have some doubt? If I was wrong wouldn't the world prove me so? Instead sorcerers attack the castle, magic decimates the kingdom, and spells make everybody think it is possibly that magic is _good. _No, the reason I alone can see the truth is that I alone am clear minded enough not to fall for the sorcerer's spell. I always thought I had an ally in you, but this sorcerer seems to be stripping me even of my son…" Uther's expression was dark and sorrowful and he moved to turn away.

Arthur felt the knife pressing on his back, strapped there, given to him by this father he was failing. With a sudden, irrational (but entirely consuming) fear that his father was leaving _forever _he hurried forwards.

"I'm sorry, father, I'm sorry."

He stepped in front of his father and Uther angrily allowed himself to be stopped.

"You're right. The plan…it's necessary, and it will prove once and for all whether or not Merlin is evil. I won't strike him down myself, find somebody else for that, but I can have him ready to be arrested. If he is innocent, which isn't a slight against you, I'm just saying _if _he is innocent, he will understand the precautions we…I…had to take against him. Make your plans father and I will make Merlin ready. I can't do this for long though, I want this to be over."

"Son," Uther said in a tight voice and suddenly gripped him in a one armed embrace. Arthur was so startled he didn't even have time to hug his father back, to prolong it, before Uther had let him go and stepped back, eyeing him proudly.

"You have spoken like a true Pendragon. Dine with the sorcerer tonight and tell me when you can have him ready."

* * *

When several servants had brought him the elaborate dinner he had ordered Arthur sent one to fetch Merlin. A dining table had been brought, with some difficulty, into his room and the feast was laid out on it. Arthur had to chase the food tester out of his room with an ornamental candle as the man had been quite intent on staying.

When Merlin entered the room he looked at the dining table with an eyebrow raised halfway between mockery and being, despite his mockery, impressed.

"Exactly how many people are dining with us?"

"It's just us," Arthur said, confused, looking at the plates of food and recounting them.

"Seriously, that's…a lot of food," Merlin moved across the room, staring at the table.

Servants were still flitting around, finishing up the final touches to the spread. One moved to Merlin and, bowing his head, dragged a chair out for him.

"Mark, hey Mark," Merlin said, sounding suddenly wounded, "you can look at me, Mark, you don't have to bow to me, we're friends!"

The man kept his eyes averted.

"Mark," another servant piped up, "this is Merlin, you don't gotta fear him."

Arthur could see the startled happiness on Merlin's face as he looked around at the woman lighting one of the extra lamps on the wall.

"He ain't changed just 'cause he's all noble-like."

The man didn't respond but the nameless female servant didn't seem to need him to, she saw something in his expression that made her lift the lighting wick and gesture angrily with it at him.

"And he was a magic person all along, so there's no point a getting worked up about it now."

She looked around and seemed to notice, for the first time, Merlin's gratified expression. She smiled and spoke slyly.

"If I'd known I could get me a free ticket from cleaning up after a bunch of grubby nobles by making some…" she twiddled her fingers to indicate magic, "…I'd be a right enchantress by now!"

Suddenly she seemed to remember who she was in the room with.

"Ah…begging your pardons, sire."

Arthur just gave Merlin a shocked look before saying,

"Um….that's okay…uh…"

"Midelda," she gave an exaggerated curtsey and grinned at Merlin conspiratorially.

"Um…" Arthur said again.

Mark had moved off by now and when Midelda (did every servants name being with 'M'?) had started talking about 'grubby nobles' the rest had made themselves scarce. The last servant in the room Midelda now gave an exaggerated curtsey to the each of them (bringing the days exaggerated curtsey count up to three,) said 'My lords,' and skipped from the room, banging the door on her way out.

Arthur stared at the door she had closed then stared at Merlin. Merlin laughed at Arthur's expression and sat down.

"What I am for you, she is for the lesser nobles. She…uh…has an unfortunate habit of stealing…uh…liberating…the money of the stuffiest nobles and giving it to the poorest families in the lower towns."

Arthur blinked and moved over to the table, sitting at the end. Merlin was sitting on the long side to his right.

"Are all of the servants lawbreakers?" He asked in dismay.

"Most of them," Merlin replied unconcernedly, dragging a platter of cooked potatoes towards himself, "but not without necessity."

Arthur himself was reaching for a platter, though this one was piled with meat. He took a moment to shoot Merlin an exasperated expression before moving the pile from the platter to his plate, then added a few bread rolls.

**::Merlin::**

"Not big on your veggies," Merlin observed in a light voice.

Arthur recognized that voice; it was Merlin's judging voice.

"I've got bread," Arthur pointed out, waving a roll illustratively, "wheat's a vegetable."

"Wheat's a grain, sire," Merlin politely averted his eyes from Arthur's error, crunching into something green.

Dubiously picking up a 'something green' from the platter Merlin had just eaten from Arthur admitted,

"I'm not even sure what this is…"

"That's a leak, sire."

Arthur instantly dropped it on his plate and looked at his pants, expecting to see embarrassingly located droplets.

"No it's a…it's not leak_ing_, Arthur," Merlin said, caught between mirth, exasperation and a mouthful of bread. He choked quietly for a moment and Arthur glared at him.

"It's not my fault!" Arthur exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation and overturning his wine glass, or at least making an admirable effort, Merlin's magic caught it half way fallen. Arthur froze in mid expansive-gesture but Merlin, who must've been really enjoying the food, just smirked at him and bit into some cooked pumpkin. He let Arthur sit there, one arm raised, for quite some time, and made no efforts to help redeem the conversation.

"I have a kingdom to run," Arthur continued, "I can't worry about what leaks are called."

"No, sire," Merlin said, then muttered, "Despite the fact that you are a living creature that requires vegetables to survive."

"That's what I have cooks for," Arthur grumbled, subsiding back onto his plate of meat.

"You should try the potatoes, they're quite good."

"Your face is a potato," Arthur said as he hunched over more, now into his wine glass.

"They aren't like the spuds we had in Ealdor, we never…"

"Spuds?"

"Potatoes, Arthur," Merlin said with barely concealed derision.

"What the heck are 'spuds?'"

"_Potatoes,_ Arthur," Merlin said with derision that now wasn't concealed at all, "As prince aren't you supposed to be fluent in four languages or something? Isn't that what you spent half your life studying? Pity none of them are English."

Arthur glared over his wine glass.

"I'm fluent in two languages," Merlin supplied.

Wine came out of Arthur's nose.

"Excuse me?" Arthur demanded, not in the 'pardon me' sense but in the much less flattering 'I think you are lying' sense.

"Icacweþan twegen spræcs." _I speak two languages_.

"What?"

"Icacweþan twegen spræcs."

"Is that an actual language or are you just making sounds?"

"Gea…Ic midd…beon an spræc. " _Yes…I mean…it's a language._

"What?" Arthur glared at Merlin.

"Ic learnian eald engle for‐wel ic cunnan don bealucræft." _I learnt old English so I could do magic._

"I don't speak idiot."

"þu beon macian ænlic." _You are doing great._

"Would you shut up speaking gibberish?"

"Gea æþeling." _Yes sire_.

"Merlin," Arthur reached for the butter knife with what was probably malevolent intent.

Merlin put up his hands in mock surrender.

They ate quietly for a moment, Arthur still watching Merlin suspiciously.

Finally he asked, very begrudgingly,

"Was that an actual language?"

"Gea."

"Merlin."

"It means 'yes.'"

Merlin saw the look of comprehension on Arthur's face and remembered his own wonder as a book full of jumbled letters became an entirely new language. It was like a spell he had learnt that let him see underwater. He wasn't one of those people who could do it naturally (so he wasn't part fish, as he suspected they were) but when he had secretly cast the spell the whole blurry world had come into focus. He'd been in a lake at the time fighting a giant underwater kelpie so he hadn't had heaps of time to take in the view, but the clarity and wonder had struck him before the monster did.

"It's the language of the Old Religion, it helps me control my magic casting."

Arthur chewed on a roll, looking at Merlin.

"I can control it pretty well without it," Merlin continued, emboldened by the lack of interruption, "but sometimes if my mind wanders I can accidentally…um…"

"Yes?" Arthur prompted and took another swig of wine, probably steeling himself for the worst.

"Set stuff on fire…or…turn it purple…or to stone, sometimes both at once…one time I accidentally turned somebody's pants into ice."

He thought for a moment then added with a reminiscent smile,

"That was hard to explain."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"And how, pray tell, did you explain that?"

"Global cooling?" Merlin said with a tentative shrug.

Arthur rubbed his hand on his forehead.

"How on earth did I not notice you had magic for so long?"

It was a rhetorical question, but somehow evolved into a real one as it hung in the air.

Merlin fiddled with his fork.

"I did tell you."

Arthur looked at him.

"That thing with Gwen being accused as a sorceress…"

A pained expression appeared on Arthur's face.

"And I almost told you with that thing in Ealdor and…Will."

Remembering Will was still painful for Merlin but it was a good pain. It was better than trying to forget him, it was better than losing his love for his friend.

"But…you know, circumstances. We are all a victim of circumstance, in the end," Merlin shrugged. Arthur didn't seem willing to speak but Merlin didn't know what else to say, so he moved some carrots onto his plate and reached for the beans.

"I've been so thick," Arthur dropped his knife with a clatter and brought that hand to join the other on his forehead.

"No you haven't!" Merlin cried, "I hid it from you, it wasn't your fault!"

"I should've noticed! Who _doesn't _notice that sort of thing? Lancelot noticed!"

"Because I had to use it in front of him!"

"You've used magic in front of me."

"Yes but you had a convenient habit of being unconscious whenever I did so."

"You've been by my side for how long? Years! Lancelot is _nomadic _and he knew."

"I wasn't as on guard with Lancelot, because he wasn't you. You cannot compare yourself to others Arthur. I was closest to you but it doesn't mean you should've known, it means I hid it all the more completely, and hence you would've been the person with the least chance of finding out."

"I don't know," Arthur said, fingers snapping open so he could look up at Merlin, "I don't _know. _Can we not talk about this?"

"Okay," Merlin said, startled and fearful he'd somehow put his foot over some invisible line.

**::Arthur::**

The real reason for Arthur's distress was not so much the conversation but the looming shadow of his father's plan.

How could he sit here and talk and joke with Merlin when he was plotting to hand him over to the king?

But how could he ever know his thoughts were his own without Merlin's innocence being proven beyond all doubt?

He didn't _think _Merlin would try and take over his thoughts, but if Merlin had Arthur wouldn't know, would he? That's what his father had said.

It was for his kingdom…but they were _friends again. _Arthur was starting to _understand _Merlin again. It was like when he fell off a horse for the first time. As soon as he had struck the ground and rolled over Arthur had realised how big the horses were, how powerful. He'd noticed for the first time how they lunged against the bit and lashed out, unprovoked, with hooves hard enough to crack a person's head open. He'd gotten back on the horse because he hadn't had a choice, his father had been there, and for a while he was terrified.

But like Merlin the horse had seemed to sense his unease and it had quietened for him. That was when Fallourn became Arthur's favourite horse. He had sensed Arthur's fear and hadn't tried to take advantage of it to do what he wanted, instead he had tried to restore Arthur's confidence. Fallourn could be big and bold and brutal in battle, but he could also be gentle and calm and, by extension, calming.

He was a horse; he had no interest hurting Arthur.

Just like Merlin…

Arthur sighed and tried to pay attention to whatever it was Merlin was saying. He'd embarked some time ago on a story about a goblin which Arthur had gathered to be responsible for his donkey ears.

Arthur had started paying attention again just in time to catch Merlin admitting he'd left Arthur with that stupid donkey laugh for another three days after he'd removed the ears.

"What!?" Arthur yelled in indignation, but he wasn't furious. Merlin was laughing and accidently putting his elbow in the butter without a malicious bone in his body.

There had to be another way.

Please…please…Arthur needed _time_. He could think of a solution, he could! He just needed more time!

After Merlin had left, grinning hopefully and making Arthur want to hope as well, Arthur went to see the king. Unsurprisingly Uther was bent over a book about the tactics used during previous battles against sorcery.

"I'm back, father," Arthur said to announce his presence.

"Arthur," Uther looked up, "how did it go?"

"He doesn't trust me enough yet," Arthur lied, "I need more time."

He wasn't lying to his father; he was just postponing his decision. He wasn't lying to Merlin; he was just not telling him about his father's plan.

And he wasn't lying to himself, he could have both of them. His father and Merlin. He could!

He…could…

He sighed.

"Hmmm…yes. The devious are often suspicious," Uther said in a wise tone, seeming to forget his legacy of distrust, "how long do you think you may need, Arthur?"

"I don't know. I probably won't know until I have talked to him some more and am more able to…judge his character," Arthur said, searching for the words that wouldn't betray him (though whether they'd betray others he could not say.)

"Yes," Uther said softly, looking at an illustration in his book of a sorcerer having their throat cut, "know your enemy."

_The only enemy I have is myself, _Arthur thought, turning away.

Arthur walked to the door, but as he was stepping through the threshold Uther called out once more.

"Arthur."

Arthur looked back.

"Don't take too long gaining the trust of your sorcerer, and remember your loyalties. I will be watching."

Arthur nodded, but with a fault line in his heart.

* * *

Arthur's plan could've worked and probably would've worked.

Arthur probably would've told Merlin about the whole damn thing.

Though Arthur had hated Merlin for the lies that had saved his life, he somehow knew Merlin would've forgiven him for the lies Arthur told to hurt him. This small gem of truth would, in time, burrow into Arthur's heart and lodge there, for it was a path untaken, and the paths untaken have ways of haunting us.

The whole history of Camelot, the world maybe, would've been very, very different if not for one thing.

Well, if not for a lot of things, but one of them was the catalyst.

That catalyst was a person.

A magician.

* * *

Arthur had been training with the knights the next day. It calmed him, bashing people over the head with a practise sword. It didn't calm them, but he was the prince so they grinned and bore it (or grimaced and bore it, whichever.)

Merlin was off doing Merliny things; as they grew more comfortable in each other's presence they also grew more comfortable apart. Merlin didn't need to dog Arthur's steps, desperate to prove his trustworthiness, and Arthur didn't need to keep watch over Merlin and his magic.

Arthur was merrily whacking away at one of his poor soldiers when a servant boy came sprinting onto the field. He headed straight for Arthur despite the curious onlookers, very bold for an eight year old laundry boy.

"Gwen…told…me…" he gasped for breath. Arthur guessed he had worked a lot with Gwen due to his familiarity with her name, "too…tell…you…"

He heaved in an enormous breath, seeming about to pass out from lack of oxygen, and said in one long jumble of syllables, "thekingisgoing toexecuteasorcerer."

One knight told the boy to speak properly and address the prince with respect, but the boy had done just as Gwen had asked, he had told the prince as quickly as he could, and by the time he'd drawn another breath the prince was gone.

**::Gwen::**

"Gwen, what's happening?" Gaius said urgently, pressing through the edge of the crowd to stand beside her in the court yard. Gwen didn't look away from the wooden platform positioned below the royal balcony. There were five soldiers there. Four held a woman tight in their grip, the last held a blade to her throat. This seemed somewhat unnecessary as she had been thoroughly beaten already and was slumped, half conscious at most, in her captor's hands.

"A cart fell onto a small boy in the market square and it was too heavy to move, but then this woman came out of the crowd and lifted it with magic. Half the crowd pulled the boy out whilst the other half beat her up. I heard the guards saying that the King didn't want to make a pyre as it would take too long, so they're going to behead her."

She spared a moment to glance at Gaius, whose expression was grim.

"I sent for Merlin," he said.

"I sent for Arthur," Gwen responded, "but what if they get here too late? Is there anything we can do?"

"Maybe…" Gaius said softly and started moving through the crowd. People grumbled but let him pass, recognising him as the physician and thinking he had a task to do in the whole 'beheading' business. Why they thought a healer would be in the business of execution Gwen couldn't fathom.

As they pressed closer to the stand Gwen asked Gaius what he was planning.

"The protective charms Merlin cast on us should protect us if we go to the woman's aid. If we get between her and the executioner he won't be able to kill her, but those charms don't increase our strength, we won't be able to get her out of here, we'll have to hope…"

"_The king," _Gwen hissed, grabbing at Gaius' arm and jerking her head to the balcony. Uther wasn't yet standing outside to address the crowd but Gwen could see him peering out through the window, seeming to be looking for something.

Merlin.

Gwen looked around. There was a distinct lack of Merlin's.

"Come on," she hissed, now pushing in front of Gaius and elbowing her way through the crowd. She took care to try and elbow the eager expressions off some of the audience members faces as she passed.

**::Arthur::**

"Father," Arthur hissed, trying not to panic as he entered the room that led onto the balcony. It was a sort of study where speeches were prepared, practised and pontificated.

"Arthur," Uther acknowledged, stepping back from the curtains, "you are just in time."

"What are you…?" Arthur began, but to his horror his father stepped out of the room before he could finish his sentence.

"_Father!_"

He darted to the door, hurriedly smoothed down his sweaty, dusty uniform, and stepped outside after the king.

"Citizens of Camelot," Uther raised his hands and the audience turned as one from the beaten woman to the king.

"Today Camelot is truly united."

The citizens roared and cheered, Uther waited for a moment before continuing.

"Today the citizens defended themselves from the evils of magic by arresting a sorceress and handing her over to the crown. Now, we shall see the sorceress executed and the scourge of magic reduced once more!"

"Father I need to _talk _to you about this," Arthur said. He didn't have to whisper, the cheers of the crowd were deafening.

"Not now, Arthur," Uther said without looking at him.

"_Now, _father. We need to talk before this goes any further."

"There's nothing to talk about. The woman was caught doing magic."

The crowd was still cheering. Uther turned a flattened palm towards them and struck them dumb.

"She might be like Merlin," Arthur hissed through teeth smiling for his people, "she could be innocent."

"There are hundreds of witnesses. Executioner!" Uther suddenly bellowed, "step forth."

The soldier holding his sword to the woman's throat stood back, making room for a figure garbed in black who stood quietly in the platform's shadows. The genderless, ageless figure walked slowly up the steps, a double headed axe heavy in gloved hands. No skin was visible between the hood and jacket, nor the gloves and sleeves. No blood would touch this body. They were a tool of the Crown and had no guilt to speak of.

"Father, please, don't do this! Let's just talk. Five minutes," Arthur begged for time, "just give me five minutes."

"To hesitate is to show weakness," Uther said. When Arthur started to speak again he turned his head slightly. Arthur looked into Uther's left eye, which was hard to make out through the glare haloing the King's face.

"Show _mercy_-"

"Be quiet, Arthur."

And Arthur was silenced.

**::Gwen::**

"Wait…Gwen!"

"He's doing nothing," Gwen spat.

People were beginning to look at the commotion they were making. Not Arthur though, Arthur had stepped back and was looking down, not at his people but at his feet.

Helping no-one.

Uther's arm began to rise again and Gwen threw herself, scrambling, up onto the execution platform. Gwen's vision was narrowed; terror on one side, bravery on the other.

The woman was dropped to her knees; she didn't have the fight in her to require forcing.

"STOP!" Gwen yelled.

She didn't expect them to obey her but she did want to distract them, which she did.

The soldiers looked up, startled into reaching for swords they didn't need, and the executioner turned to look. It gave Gwen just enough time. She dived towards the woman. The shield around her reacted to the executioner and soldiers who meant her harm where it didn't react to the semi-conscious woman. As soon as Gwen got too close it exploded into blue sparks as if the men and the shield were crossing blades. The soldiers reeled and the executioner was almost brained by his own rebounding axe. Gwen covered the woman with her body and arms; seeming to unconsciously accept this inexplicable saviour she fell into Gwen's arms, surrendering her balance with closed eyes.

Gwen's head twisted up and she looked straight into the eyes of not Arthur, but Uther. She couldn't hear him over the ringing in her head but she didn't think the swishing chop of his hand was for the benefit of her health.

Her head snapped back down, saw a flash of sunlight on metal and she flinched low over the wounded woman. The executioner was swinging the axe high again reading to bring it down and drive it straight through the both of-

Blue sparks exploded again with a violent thunderclap and the axe head was riven into shards.

They clattered to the platform and bounced onto the ground in the sudden silence the explosion left behind.

Gwen looked up. She read Uther's whispered word on his lips.

"Sorceress."

In the past this would have inspired terror and denials, but now all she felt was a fierce pride of being mistaken for one of Merlin's kind.

Gwen now turned her eyes onto Arthur. He had stepped forwards with wide, panicked eyes and was clutching the ledge. His voice cut through the static in her brain,

"GWEN!"

Uther was obviously too apoplectic with rage to notice the anguish in Arthur's voice. The man was yelling orders and soldiers were pouring out of the castle into the square. Gwen held her ground, covering the woman with her body, as her shield flickered to life again and again as arrows spat from the soldiers bows.

And then, in a soft rush of wind, Merlin was there.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin staggered upon landing. That teleportation technique was going to need some practise; it took a lot of concentration, way too much to spare any for such things as remembering how to stand.

He whirled around; he was standing on top of the executioner's platform. All the message boy had said was that Gaius wanted him to go to the main square immediately, and then something about Uther. He took in the baying crowd and the flashes of sunlight reflecting off soldiers armour.

He span again. He hadn't been aiming for the platform, but apparently it was where he needed to be and hence where his magic had brought him.

"Gwen!?" He cried. Darting forwards he took up a sorcerers' defensive stance beside where she was bent protectively over somebody…a woman...

"What's going on?"

"Uther wanted to execute this woman for performing magic," Gwen yelled over the bedlam, "she used it to lift a cart off a child at the market and the crowd beat her up and turned her in."

"I see," Merlin said, looking away from Gwen and up, unflinchingly meeting Uther's eyes.

"Can't I leave you alone for five seconds with you trying to murder someone, Uther Pendragon?" Uther's eyes narrowed and he braced his hands onto the ledge in a distinctly different way to the son who still leant weakly on it beside him.

Before the king could speak Merlin looked away again.

"Are you _proud_ of yourselves?" He yelled, stepping towards the crowd.

The crowd was stricken into silence; Merlin even saw one man freeze in the act of scratching his nose with an expression of absolute terror.

"She saved a child and you handed her to the king."

Merlin dropped into the crowd and walked amongst them, as Uther had never done, magically projecting his voice.

"What if it had been you?" He said to a rich town man.

He turned to a woman who had brought her daughter to see the show.

"What if it had been your daughter she'd saved?"

He looked around; every face he saw was turned towards him. They followed his progress like sunflowers followed progress of the sun.

"Which of you would _not _save a child?"

Nobody answered, probably more so out of fear then honesty but Merlin didn't care; he let the silence stretch, long and awkward.

"Okay, so I assume you would all save a child. Then according to Uther's laws you would all be guilty and worthy of execution."

A rush of wind and Merlin was suddenly back on the stage next to Gwen and the woman.

"This woman knew the consequences and saved the child anyway."

Merlin looked down at the people in disgust.

"Think about that the next time you feel _proud_."

**::Arthur::**

Merlin, Gwen, the beaten woman and Gaius vanished from below him into a whirl of nothing. The crowd cried out, twisting on itself, divided.

Where had the sorcerer gone?

Was he coming for them?

Through the relief that Gwen was out of the line of fire Arthur felt a flash of contemptuous anger; how fickle did the crowd think Merlin was? Did they think that after saving the woman and disappearing he would dart back, go 'oh, one more think' and smite them all down?

Looking away from the empty space Arthur turned to his father and as soon as he did so he suddenly realised the gravity of Merlin's actions; actively, publicly defying the King, thwarting his efforts to execute a sorceress for using magic _with _magic.

Talking to the king's people without allowing the king to censor him…

Arthur was expecting something bad but nothing could've prepared him for the look on Uther's face. Uther's eyes were black as death and sharp as a needle pinning a butterfly to a board.

His decision was written in every muscle and line of his face.

And he'd decided to murder.


	9. Chapter 9: Fruition

**I'm nervous about this chapter, as I know I have to do it _right._**

**But I can't keep revising it and I think I got it.**

**So, here we go.**

* * *

**Chapter 9: Fruition. **

**::Arthur::**

The castle was silent.

The crowd had dispersed and the sun was pivoting from rising to falling, raining down its yellow light from high places. The distant sound of the living city drifted in through the windows and Arthur paused to listen.

It was the calm before the storm. Arthur looked down into the courtyard, saw soldiers talking amicably, servants scurrying and laughing together.

Nobody else could sense it. Nobody else had guessed it. But Arthur knew it would not be long. His father was not one to take a badly cooked dinner lightly, let alone humiliation and the public undermining of the crown.

And Uther hadn't yelled, hadn't screamed or thrown a fit. Something else must be growing in its place. The electric atmosphere made Arthur feel alive with danger.

Arthur went to find Merlin, skin prickling like an ominous sign of impending disaster.

* * *

"You shouldn't have done that," Arthur said from the front door to the physician's quarters. Merlin, Gaius and Gwen were inside, though the injured woman was not. Arthur suspected that Merlin had taken her to a healer in town rather than Gaius in order to hide her from the king. Looking towards Arthur Merlin asked,

"I shouldn't have saved an innocent woman?"

Arthur looked around with the same sensation of some approaching horror.

"You shouldn't have done it _like that._"

"Like what?"

"You humiliated my father…he won't…that's not a smart thing to do if you don't have a _death wish_!"

Merlin was looking at Arthur with a strange expression. He looked confident and wise and sad.

"I'm not here to make your father happy."

"Oh, I would worry about that!" Arthur snarled, running a hand through his hair and trying to figure out exactly how much trouble they were in (a lot) and what exactly he could do about it (nothing.) Merlin had the beginnings of a raised eyebrow on his face.

**::Merlin::**

Before Merlin could act on the raised eyebrow, perhaps by raising the other one, there was a knock on the door. Merlin knew it would not be a knight or soldier as they would never have gotten through his magical shield.

Despite it being the physicians quarters, where answering the door should logically be the physicians responsibility, Arthur span on his heal and opened it. There was a steward on the other side, arm raised to knock again.

"Yes?" Arthur snarled in a voice that could've cracked rock.

"The king requests your presence…um…immediately…sire," the steward said as he backed away from Arthur's expression.

"Requests?" Arthur said.

"It…may have been stated more as an order, sire," the steward admitted.

Merlin looked at the back of Arthur's head, frowning.

"Arthur," Merlin said in a wary voice, "you can't be thinking of going?"

Arthur looked around, frowning in a startled sort of way.

"What's that supposed to mean, I can't be thinking of going?"

Behind him, Merlin felt Gaius and Gwen go very still. This felt like yet another pivotal moment in Merlin's life; he'd had so many he was getting dizzy.

"You father…the king…tried to execute an innocent woman."

Arthur's eyebrows descended but he said nothing. The light coming in the window was as gold as Merlin's magic.

"It's not right, Arthur. He's a…"

"Are you trying to make me choose between you and my father?" Arthur asked in a tone that said '_don't you dare._'

"No."

Arthur exhaled.

"But you need to acknowledge that it's not right, Arthur, your father is not a…when it comes to magic, you father is not rational."

Arthur's expression thundered.

"And a king who cannot be relied upon in a matter as important as this is…dangerous."

"You are trying to make me choose," Arthur said in an angry, hollow voice.

"I'm not trying to make you choose, but I want you to realise that things cannot continue as they are."

"Don't worry," Arthur replied in what was, frankly, an alarming tone, "they won't."

He turned to leave, anger and bitterness and something unknown lining his face.

It wasn't the sort of ending to a conversation that inspired confidence.

**::Arthur::**

The king was not in his chambers or in his study; he was in the throne room looking dangerous. Uther didn't look around when Arthur entered but Arthur felt his attention sharpen dramatically in his son's direction.

Arthur didn't know there was anything worse than his father yelling at him.

But…silence…this was new.

He didn't like it.

The room was bright, everything was clean. The stone floor had been replaced, again, and polished to within an inch of its life. All of the flags and shields and ornamental weapons were either cleaned or new. The place looked regal and grand and entirely fake. Arthur didn't fit in.

Uther turned and _looked _at Arthur. A long moment passed, Arthur not breathing all the while.

Uther looked away, Arthur breathed again.

"That was unacceptable," Uther said quietly.

"I can fix-"

"_Nothing,_" Uther bit the word out, silencing Arthur.

Arthur felt his first prickle of defiance.

"That woman was innocent."

Uther didn't even bother replying, making Arthur's defiance waver.

After a moment Uther seemed to deem long enough to transmit his disapproval he spoke again.

"The spell over your mind must be affecting your memory, Arthur, as you keep forgetting what I have said about this. But no matter, it will all be over by the end of the day."

"What?" Arthur jerked in surprise.

"Go and get the sorcerer."

"What? Now? What for?"

"I put you in charge of this situation and you failed me. You let the sorcerer openly defy me and undermine my rule," Uther paced towards Arthur now. He'd been so quiet Arthur was surprised to find the king was breathing heavily.

"You will bring him to the throne room _now, _Arthur. I want him to walk here; I want him to be an example of those who undermine me. Tell him he's being knighted, to make sure he's shields are down to weapons. As he is accoladed he will be struck from behind, then taken away and bled. You will not be the one to strike him as you cannot be relied upon. Do this, Arthur, or I will disown you as my son and renounce you as heir to the thrown of Camelot."

Arthur stepped back, winded.

"Father!"

Uther's eyes were wicked and Arthur had the feeling Uther could beat him into submission with his gaze alone.

"Think about what you truly want, Arthur, before you think I am being cruel, or overreacting. You cannot be trusted with Camelot when you might be under the sorcerer's rule," Uther tilted his head, looking at Arthur's sidewards; "you won't even have to touch him. A soldier will knock him out. All you have to do is lead him here and make sure his magic is not protecting him. If you won't do it for me, do it for Camelot."

Arthur was shaking; so this is what people meant when they said they're legs felt like water. He'd never been able to imagine it before and now he didn't have to. His legs felt like water and his head felt like ice. He stepped back and Uther's expression, whilst too angry to be triumphant, had a certain level of satisfaction around the edges, crinkling like burning paper.

**::Merlin::**

Gaius comments on impending doom weren't helping Merlin's nerves.

Arthur was out there, deciding, and Merlin was here, not with him.

He paced the room, wringing his hands and unintentionally making the cupboards rattle. Sitting at the table drinking the tea he had refused was Gwen, watching him pace. She had just as helpful as Gaius, that is not at all. The lack of action Arthur had taken when his father had tried to execute Melody, the sorceress, had shaken her faith in him but just like Merlin wouldn't give up on him neither would she.

Merlin had transported Melody from the square to one of Gaius former apprentices who worked in the higher town of Camelot. He was a pompous fellow but after clutching his heart for a little in surprise at Merlin and Melody sudden materializing in front of him while he agreed to care for her. Merlin chose then to sprint rather than teleport back; teleporting took too much energy and concentration and left him feeling drained of both.

"What do you think…" Gaius began.

"I don't know," Merlin said for the umpteenth time, glancing at the door. It was Arthur's choice to make, as much as Merlin hated him having to choose between himself and his father.

But then, the choice was bigger than that. It wasn't just a choice of Uther or Merlin, but the King or the Kingdom, the King or the People, the King or What Was Right.

If Uther wasn't Arthur's father the choice would've been easy. As it was, Merlin deeply feared Arthur would continue trying to balance the king and the Camelot and not realised when he had dropped his people.

There was a knock on the door. Everybody in the room turned to look but nobody moved to open it. It didn't matter, it was Arthur on the other side and Arthur didn't wait for permission to open it.

"The King wants to see you," he said to Merlin.

Merlin clenched his fists.

"Why?" Gaius said sharply. Arthur looked over Merlin's shoulder with a strange expression, like he was still choosing.

"He wants to knight Merlin."

"What?" Gwen said, nearly dropping her tea. Gaius made a sound like a cat being deprived of its dinner.

"He wanted to kill you," Arthur turned back to Merlin, "but as he couldn't he will settle for gesture of control over you to show everyone that it's him, not you, who is in charge of the kingdom."

"Knighting," Gaius snapped, getting louder as he approached behind Merlin, "do you take us for fools, Arthur? He won't use a ceremonial sword to accolade him, he'll use it to behead him!"

"I know he's your father but letting him hold a sword to Merlin's neck is too much," Gwen said, standing and approaching as well.

"He won't be the one doing the accolade," Arthur said, looking at Gaius, "I will."

Merlin watched Arthur, looking from left eye to right, trying to find sincerity or falsehood and finding neither…and both.

"That's not very reassuring," Gaius said in an angry, frightened tone.

"Arthur, let's think about this," Gwen said, walking to his side and trying to touch his arm.

Merlin put out a hand and held her back. This was between Arthur and himself.

"It's okay," Merlin said to Gwen without taking his eyes of Arthur, who was looking back at him, "I trust him."

Arthur looked away and Merlin's gut clenched. He _couldn'_t trust him…but he _would_ trust him.

"You'll have to lower your magic," Arthur said over Merlin's shoulder, "so that I can accolade you with the sword."

Merlin's spine shivered and he was suddenly conscious of his heartbeat. Was it always so fast? So _loud_?

"I'm trusting you, Arthur," Merlin said. Arthur nodded once, still not looking at him, and turned and walked out the door.

"You guys should stay here," Merlin said to Gaius and Gwen.

"As if," said Gwen.

"No way," said Gaius.

They followed Merlin out the door.

* * *

The two men, boys really, walked side by side to the throne room without speaking. Gaius and Gwen followed a few meters behind and Merlin could feel their eyes on his back.

Arthur kept glancing at Merlin but Merlin only looked back. He tried to look calm but his heart was pounding in his chest. He didn't know what he was doing or what was going to happen.

They got to the throne room doors; Merlin felt sick, he felt like running away.

His hands shook as he unclenched them.

"I'm trusting you, Arthur," he said again, looking at Arthur so intently for such a long moment that the prince had to turn and look back.

They looked at each other for a moment. Arthur's expression was decided but slightly wild, as if he didn't like his decision, which could mean anything.

As Arthur pushed the doors open Merlin fleetingly wondered how his world would be different tomorrow. He would know what had happened by then, he would know how he had reacted. He would be so very wise tomorrow.

He just had to get there first.

**::Arthur::**

Swallowing convulsively Arthur stepped into the room. It was much more crowded the he had anticipated, but then he should have known it would be. Uther would want a lot of witnesses to his show of power. It would make explaining himself to Merlin later much more difficult (Arthur did not think about what would happen between now and then…what would have to be done to Merlin, what condition Merlin would be in as Arthur made his explanations.)

It would all be so much easier to stomach if Merlin hadn't just followed him. He saw Merlin's suspicion in his eyes; why hadn't he, didn't he, act on it?

Arthur felt wretched but it was too late (the argument his father would've made, that it was the right thing, did not spring to Arthur's mind.)

His hard boots snapped against the stone but Merlin walked shadow-quiet beside him, as if he were hardly there. Behind them he could here Gaius and Gwen push their way into the room warily and by the sudden jerk of Uther's head the king had seen them from where he stood before the throne.

Moving down the walls of people Arthur and Merlin passed the noble section of the crowd and moved into the soldiers and knights. With battle-honed senses Arthur felt the tension in Merlin escalate and, seemingly despite himself, Merlin walked slightly closer to the prince.

Not that it would help.

Uther was inclining his head towards Arthur but with predator eyes focused on Merlin.

Arthur could no longer hear the sound of Merlin breathing.

They got to the bottom of the steps that rose to the throne and stopped.

"Sorcerer," Uther said. For a moment Arthur thought Merlin's courage had finally failed him, but then he heard Merlin say,

"King."

It will only hurt him for a little bit, Arthur told himself. Unbidden another voice rose up inside his throat like vomit.

He's your _friend_!

You _know _he hasn't ensorcelled your thoughts.

You are only doing this to appease your father.

Shut up! Arthur told himself.

Uther was wearing his crown; it sat heavy on his head, gleaming gold.

"I called you here today," Uther said, finally looking away from Merlin to the crowd, "to witness this sorcerer's pledge to serve the crown."

The crowd murmured to itself.

"Though magic is illegal this sorcerer shall be allowed to live, as he has agreed to submit himself to the royal court."

Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw the muscles tighten to cords on the back of Merlin's neck but he did speak.

"To be appointed as a Court Sorcerer the sorcerer will be accoladed and he will recite the Royal vow to Camelot."

Arthur looked at Uther. When knights were confirmed they recited the vow before the accolade, but he supposed Uther didn't want to draw this out.

"Prince Arthur," Uther summoned, drawing a great jewelled sword from the folds of his robes. There were great rubies set in the handle and inscriptions of _honour_ and _justice_ the entire length of the blade. Arthur took it, looking at the loopy scrawl and thinking in a desperate sort of sarcasm, 'How appropriate.'

He turned to Merlin. Merlin's eyes were on the blade and when he looked up into Arthur's face the prince noticed Merlin's quickened breathing. Merlin's eyes had that pinched look that Arthur knew was not a head ache or the sun in his eye, but _fear_.

He knew Merlin well enough to know it was fear.

I won't be the one to hurt him, Arthur recited, chanted, promised, (begged) to himself.

"Kneel, Sorcerer Merlin," Arthur said, trying to sound official.

The entire room was holding its breath, the entire room had the hairs on the back of its neck rising.

Merlin was just standing there, not moving, _looking _at Arthur. Arthur's eyes were directed at Merlin but focused in the middle distance.

"Merlin," he said softly, trying not to move his lips, and Merlin, damn him, knelt.

Arthur raised the sword; it divided his vision in two, a great silver slash. Holding out in front of him Arthur lowered the flat of the blade onto Merlin's left shoulder, and whilst Merlin didn't flinch Arthur felt him shiver through the blade.

Arthur waited for a long moment, waited for Uther's man to step forth and knock Merlin unconscious, waited for this to be _over._

Nobody moved.

"Merlin Hunithson," Arthur said, knowing he wasn't following his father's script, lifting the sword and laying it on Merlin's other shoulder, "I appoint you, Sorcerer of Camelot.

And he lifted the blade away.

Merlin looked up. He had a shocked expression on his face, shocked and disbelieving. He couldn't believe he'd survived the accolade.

"Arise," Arthur said, hardly audible, but Merlin heard him.

Energetic with relief at having not been beheaded Merlin sprang to his feet. He gave Arthur a shaky grin.

Over his shoulder Arthur saw a man in plain soldier's uniform separate from the ranks.

He had a knife with a thick pommel in his hand. He stepped forwards.

Merlin didn't see or hear him; he had eyes and ears for Arthur alone.

The man raised his knife…going in slow motion.

Merlin was smiling.

Do it, Arthur begged, end this.

But still the man didn't knock Merlin out with his weapon's heavy pommel.

Merlin was saying "I never should have dou-" when suddenly, interrupting him mid-sentence, the man reached the knife over Merlin's shoulder and opened his throat from ear to ear.


	10. Chapter 10: Aftermath

**Hello again,**

**Hopefully I still have a few readers. Judging by the reviews there is a small chance all of the people reading this story died of fatal heart attacks, which I do apologize for.**

**I've gotta say though, I was looking forward to seeing how people would react to the end of that chapter for ages, which I realise is horrible of me. **

**Again, apologies.**

**Now, as I left you all with a cliffhanger of psychpathic proportions, on with the story!**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Aftermath. **

**::Arthur::**

Time did not so much freeze as much as it shuddered into slow motion.

What Arthur was seeing didn't register…everything was the same…except…

Merlin stood before him in the throne room, newly accoladed a sorcerer of Camelot…only instead of smiling he had this crashing expression like the end of the world…and there was blood that was streaming from the gaping wound in his throat…

With a concussive noise inside Arthur's head, time resumed.

"Merlin!" He tried to yell, but was unsure if any noise came out. The crowd was yelling, Uther was saying something in his King voice…but _Merlin…_

Merlin staggered backwards, one hand going to his severed throat. His expression was disbelieving, desperate, eyes wide with wild agony…and the _sound _he was making.

"Merlin!" Arthur surged forwards but was suddenly restrained from behind.

"Let go of me! Merlin!"

It was the king. He wasn't saying reassurances or explanations, he was just watching Merlin collapse, rasping, onto one knee as he pinned his son's arms to his sides.

Merlin had left a trail of blood, marking his retreat, red as a Pendragon carpet. Throwing out a hand and then lifting it again he left a bloodied handprint. The most terrible noise in the world was accompanying every desperate heave of his chest, a sucking gurgle that left nobody in any doubt as to whether or not the sorcerer was drowning.

"Merlin! No, what have you done?" Arthur yelled to Merlin, to his father, to himself. "Merlin!"

Merlin looked up, horror and panic and anguish.

Gold sparkled in his blood; his magic was running out. Gold ran from his ears like cerebral fluid. He almost collapsed; he was shaking, backing away like a dog on a chain trying to flee the lash. Gaius was crying, Gwen was yelling Merlin's name. Merlin looked towards them but the movement caused a sickening haemorrhage of life. He looked down to the expanse of blood before him, jerked horribly, convulsively, slipping in his own blood and horror...

And with a sound like cracking bone…

Vanished.

"Merlin!" Arthur screamed and behind him Uther abruptly released him. So suddenly, in fact, that Arthur couldn't catch himself before he went pitching forwards to where Merlin had been. His hands slapped into the puddle of blood, a splash hit his face, there was _blood _in his _mouth_.

As quickly as he had fallen forwards Arthur recoiled back. He scrabbled on the stone leaving streaks of red until he was stopped by the stone steps behind him.

He shuddered, his chest feeling like it was a sucking wound…it was a black hole…he was going to fall in.

He sat there for a moment, drawing in a long sobbing breath that wouldn't end.

Blood on his face

Blood on his face

_Merlin_.

Merlin was _gone._

Arthur looked up to Gaius and Gwen and was already half sitting up by the time what he saw registered. They had both been seized by guards…the shields Merlin had cast on them were gone.

Merlin would never have left them vulnerable…he would die before he left his friends helpless.

Arthur snatch up the ceremonial sword from where he had dropped it and sprang to his feet, rising and turning at the same time. Before the movement had ended there was a great metallic crash that made everybody but the participants jump.

Breathing hard Arthur glared down the blade to the man who had…who had…

He'd stopped the sword with his short dagger, which Arthur could now see he had been cleaning on his robes. A great chip had been taken out of the ceremonial sword where Merlin's killer had blocked it inches from his own neck. He didn't look alarmed, he looked merely contemptuous.

Mutterings and half-cries broke out in the knights when they saw the raised blade. It was against a knights honour to rise a blade to their liege; the man should've ducked or danced back, given way rather than hold his ground.

But this was not one of Arthur's men. His eyes, pale blue like Arthurs, flicked over the prince's shoulder to the king. Whatever he saw there made him stand back from Arthur's reach and lower his dagger.

Arthur reared forwards, slashing at him from the other direction. Immediately the assassin stoped retreating and blocked him again.

"Arthur!" Uther was yelling, coming to his side and grabbing his hands around the sword handle, "Arthur! Stop this at one! It is the after effects of the spell, Arthur. Calm yourself."

"THERE WAS NO SPELL!" Arthur cried, jerking from his father's grip to stand alone beside the splash of red on the floor.

"There was never any spell. You lied to me."

"I never lied to…"

Arthur raised the notched blade and pointed it at the king. Even though he was more than the blades length away from the king the crowd gasped once and fell into a tense silence.

Uther flinched.

"You lied about what we would do," Arthur breathed down the inscriptions _honour _and _justice, _"and you lied about why we would do it and…and…"

Arthur's hand dropped and he looked at all that remained of Merlin, a patch of blood on a murderer's floor.

His anger failed him and grief rose up to meet him.

Arthur didn't finish his sentence out loud but the words rang inside him,

…_and it's all my fault._

**::Gwen::**

Gwen had known something was wrong, but she had trusted Arthur. He had obviously known what was happening but hadn't told them, so Gwen had trusted that it wouldn't hurt them…that Arthur would not put them in danger.

How wrong she was.

It was so quiet and quick she and Gaius didn't know what had happened. A man had stepped up behind Merlin and done something; his back blocked the something from view. Then the man had stepped back and Merlin had stopped midsentence, motionless. Gwen and Gaius shared a confused, worried look.

By the time they looked away from each other and back to Merlin there was blood all over the floor.

Everything happened in rapid succession from then. Arthur was being held back, Gwen was screaming, "Merlin!" but Merlin hadn't turned, he didn't have time. He didn't have time for anything anymore…

His time was up.

Merlin kept collapsing backwards away from Arthur and Uther. Gwen had leaped forwards (to save him? avenge him?) but a second later there was a snap of magic and he was just…

Gone.

Gwen had seen him disappear before, indeed she'd done some disappearing of her own when he'd teleported her.

But she remembered how much energy it had taken, how much concentration, and then soldiers had been grabbing her arms and she'd known it was over.

Arthur was holding a sword to the king, as if that would help. Gwen was still in shock, still reeling, numb. Beside her Gaius had been seized and they'd shared another wordless look. Disbelief and pain, pain and the knowledge that what they felt now was a roaring calm before a terrible storm…knowledge that the pain would get only worse.

Merlin's magical shields had failed them. And if the shields which were easy for a warlock of his power were gone he would not have had the power to transport himself anywhere. Gaius hung his head and Gwen's throat closed over. She would've hung from the grip of the soldiers holding her but her right arm had been twisted against itself and she had to stand away from the pain.

There was a heartbeat in her ears and a scraping pulse in her chest, a bird before this great storm that would surely small it into pieces.

He was _gone. _It was impossible, it couldn't have happened…but it had.

She looked around, squinting as though a bright light were being emitted from the faces of the crowds. The shapes made no meaning, words and language dissolved in her ears like salt in water.

She looked to Arthur, feeling nothing, expecting something. Nothing.

"And…" he was saying, "…and…"

And it was all _his _fault.

Gwen's heart sparked and she lunged against the arms holding her. Pain shot up her right arm, driving her into focus.

"Arthur!" She snarled, "_what have you done?_"

Arthur looked up from his bloodied hands and stared at her like she was a stranger who had surprised him.

Then Uther was stepping forwards.

"Bring them here," he ordered to the men holding Gwen and Gaius, pointing at the ground.

"Make them kneel."

Gwen and Gaius were shoved onto their knees in the pool of blood. She looked at it for a long moment, seeing the light playing across its lapping red surface.

Then she looked up.

If Uther thought she would fear him because he made her sit in her friend's blood he had another thought coming. Just like when he'd mistakenly named her a sorceress at the execution she felt a bolt of solidarity shoot through her.

There were no eyelids to close in respect.

No body to lie in a grave.

If kneeling in his blood was the last time Gwen would touch Merlin she would take it and she would treasure it.

She put her hands out to steady her and blood closed around her fingers.

Her heart whispered _Merlin_ very quietly, lest the king hear it.

"Now you see what happens to those who break the laws of Camelot," Uther announced to the crowd.

He either didn't realise or didn't care that it had shrunken from him in fear.

"No matter how powerful the law breaker, justice will always reign."

He paced once to the right then once to the left, addressing the crowd looking like a lion sizing up a calf, whose neck he intended to break.

"The sorcerer is _dead_."

The word hung in the air and the people flinched around it.

"He broke the law and usurped my rule, and now he is _dead_."

Uther looked down to Gwen and Gaius, only disdain in his face.

Looking back at him defiantly Gwen could tell he had realised she was not a sorceress, that her magical protection had been Merlin. If he still thought she was a sorceress she wouldn't still be alive, held kneeling before him.

For a seething moment she wanted him to kill her and _make Arthur watch. _

"The sorcerer showed his power by using magic to control the thoughts of my son. But even a spelled Pendragon is a Pendragon," Uther gestured to Arthur with a welcoming hand.

Arthur shrunk away, the slant of his shoulders one line of _don't hurt me_.

_Don't hurt me again._

"You murdered him," Arthur said in an uncomprehending voice, as if he couldn't quite get his head around the concept.

"You murdered him."

He blinked and looked at his father; Gwen could see blood on his eyelashes.

"Knights," Uther said in a calm voice, "escort the prince to his chambers, where he can regain his mind. The sorcerer's magic lingers there."

The knights couldn't disobey a direct order from their king. Very gently they took Arthur in hand but their grips tightened when he suddenly struggled against them.

"Murderer!"

He yelled all the while as they dragged him from the room and then Gwen could still hear his voice vanishing down the corridor.

The last words she heard were, "Merlin, I'm sorry."

He was sorry?

Gwen looked down to the floor without seeing it.

If he was so very sorry why had he lead them there in the first place?

Her hands formed bloodied fists. _He knew nothing of sorry._

"These two," Uther continued once, "this physician and this servant, were in league with the sorcerer. They were allies; they supported his attempts to overthrow the crown."

"He could've taken your throne with his eyes closed," Gaius said sharply, tears still in his eyes.

Uther gave her a look like a strike and spoke with bared teeth.

"But as I have shown the power of the King, I shall also show a King's mercy."

Gwen looked up with another glare to give the king.

"Without the sorcerer's power these two are harmless and whilst they will not go unpunished they will be permitted to live."

The cunning in Uther's eyes told Gwen that this was not mercy for them but manipulation of the crowd, who were losing their looks of terror and, as a unit, uncoiling. Like a herd of sheep who have just seen a wolf turn into a lamb, confused but suddenly hopeful in the preservation of their lives, never mind the blood on the predators lips.

"Life is not yours to give and take away," Gaius said softly, just for Uther.

A smile twitched the dry skin of the king.

"Knights," Uther said and more armoured men stepped forwards. "Take these two to the servant quarters. They will collect buckets of water and rags, then return them to the hall. They will clean the floor of their friend."

Gwen and Gaius were pulled to their feet, blood flicking from their clothing and running down their skin.

"You are dismissed," Uther told the crowd, "tonight there will be festivals and feasts, and a great celebration of what happened here today."

Gwen and Gaius were led away by the knights. Looking over her shoulder Gwen could see the anxious crowd beginning to mill about; nobles moving to talk to other nobles, Uther even. Uther descended the final steps and allowed his hand to be wrung by his simpering subjects.

But all the while everybody was conscious not to touch the stain of red in the middle of the room, and stepped carefully around the footprints Gwen and Gaius had left as they were dragged away.

**::Arthur::**

The room was almost silent, the only sounds drifting in through the window being those of a city readying for night lead by a red sunset. Arthur's breathing was so quiet one would have to be within arms distance to actually hear it.

He sat with his back against the door, one leg stretched out, the other propped up. His hands sat limping on the cold stone and his head was halfway down, not quite being held up by his neck muscles but not quite being left to drop either. His eyes were open, unseeing.

There was a crisp knock on the door and the only sign of recognition he made was his eyes sliding into focus.

"Arthur, open this door," said the king. Arthur's head came up and back to rest on the wood, eyes looking up to the ceiling as he listened.

"Arthur I have keys and a platoon of men ready to force this door open, do as I say."

Arthur stood and moved away from the door, joints creaking.

"It's unlocked," he said as he moved, feeling cowed, to the far side of the room.

The king entered the room, closing the door shut behind him with a snap that made Arthur flinch weakly away.

"Is your mind clear?" Uther asked.

Arthur looked back.

His mind was white noise.

His mind was Merlin's eyes on his, dying, over and over, forever and ever.

Arthur closed his eyes and hitched in a breath.

"Yes."

"Good. Over the next few days we must rein-"

"Yes."

Arthur turned.

"I've been blind," he said. "And now it's too late…but I see you father, and I know what you did."

"What are-"

"That was not justice," Arthur hissed, spine rippling straight with anger, "that was murder."

"I see your mind is _not _clear," Uther said huffily.

"Don't patronize me," Arthur snarled, and now he turned towards Uther, body going hot with fury, "I understand you for the first time in my life. There was no spell, you knew it, and now I know it. No matter how much you argue I could not see it because I was enchanted I know the reason I could not see it is because it was not there."

"Ah but that's exactly what you would-"

"Shut up, father," Arthur spat the word, then spat on the floor for good measure.

"You will speak to me with respect," Uther's voice was sharp and cold and shivered with rage.

"I will do no such thing," Arthur said in a low voice that filled the room.

"I am your king-"

"And I am the prince, what is it that you are going to do to me that will not turn the people against you?"

Uther was silent for a long moment.

Eventually he opened his mouth but Arthur muttered furiously,

"That is why you spared Gwen and Gaius. Not for mercy, for your own public image."

Uther was looking at Arthur steadily and his expression evolved as he did so. Arthur could see in his father's eyes what he himself had only just realised; he was no longer a tool of his father's.

He was his own person, with his own thoughts and his own reasons. He was the prince, he was a challenge to Uther the king could not defeat without losing what he was fighting for.

And he was a fool, for ever letting the king manipulate him so.

"And what is it that you plan to do now?" Uther asked carefully.

"Whatever it is it will be of my own bidding," Arthur growled, blinking in tears.

"You betrayed me. You used my love for you against me. Worse, you made me use my love for my friends against them."

Arthur moved forwards and felt a stab of satisfaction when Uther felt wary enough to look to Arthur's side, checking for the sword he did not wear.

"You are a liar and you are a murderer. You are not my father and you are not my king."

There was a band around Arthur's chest that tightened with every word but he forced himself to breathe, to _see this through. _Uther's expression had gone colder than ice.

"As impressive as that little speech is, _son, _just remember where your friends are when you renounce me."

Gaius…Gwen...

In the hands of the King.

(Merlin, all over again.)

"I have been lenient with you, Arthur, but my patience will not last forever. Nor will my tolerance," Uther said into the sudden silence. He moved forwards, confident in the knowledge that he had the upper hand.

"If you ever speak to me like that again I assure you, you will _never _speak to your friends again."

There was vomit in Arthur's throat. He couldn't breathe. He was losing everything. He had lost everything.

Gwen, Gaius, his insides snarled, you can't just give up and roll over, if you won't fight for your useless self, fight for them. You _owe _them.

_Coward._

_COWARD!_

"Apologize, Arthur," Uther ordered, standing over him.

Arthur was disgusted with his father, disgusted with himself. Disgusted with the way his father's was putting his hands on Arthur's soul and making fists around it.

Pulling him, pushing him.

"Apologize _now, _Arthur."

Trapped, thinking only of the horrors his best friend's murderer, his father, might inflict on the two people he held captive, Arthur forced out two words that burnt his mouth,

"I'm…sorry."

Uther looked down at him; seemingly both satisfied with getting what he wanted and condescending that Arthur had given in. Maybe Uther would respect him more if he put his pride before his friends, but the cost of his pride would be Gwen and Gaius.

Just like Merlin.

What had he done?

"I'm calling the knights back from patrol, the ones who might've allied themselves with the sorcerer…or you," Uther said, turning away, "get a grip on yourself before they arrive or they will all be sent to isolated barracks on the borders to work as servants."

As Uther left Arthur could only tremble. He'd walked willingly into this mess and now he was paying the price.

Or more accurately his friends were, for not a hair on the prince's precious head would be touched. Even if Arthur threw himself in front of his friends the arrow would bend around him, the sword would never touch him.

He was invincible.

And Merlin was dead.

Arthur slumped to the ground again and began to cry.

What had he done?

What had he done?

Merlin…he was so sorry.

**::Gwen::**

Merlin's blood gave them one last protection. The soldiers guarding them seemed to be superstitious and didn't want to get near it, so Gwen and Gaius sat alone in the middle of the hall with the guards standing by the exits. Gwen scrubbed hard, compensation for Gaius' slow, arthritic hands, and had what she knew could be their last chance at a private conversation in a long time.

"He really is gone, isn't he Gaius?" She asked, scrubbing hard at a patch Gaius had been wiping weakly with a cloth for the past few minutes.

"Yes," Gaius exhaled.

"There's no chance…"

"No."

"Because we've seen him disappear before. He could've…I don't know…gone to a healer or…"

"Gwen," Gaius said softly, looking up into her eyes. "Merlin's magical shields failed. He's such a…was…such a magical being that his magic would fail after his body. And even if he had been able to teleport somewhere, where would he have gone? Even I do not have the skill to save a person with a…a…"

"I know," Gwen whispered, remembering the injury. She'd only seen it once, when Merlin had half turned and she'd seen the horror where skin used to be. It had made her whole soul shiver, the memory made her want to retreat into darkness, for the world was too cruel for living in.

She'd seen such a wound before on soldiers after battles…as she helped clear the streets of the dead.

"A…a…throat wound, like that," Gaius seemed to want to talk despite the obvious pain he felt doing so. "To stop the bleeding you'd have to compress the wound and compressing the wound would suffocate him…and it would still be bleeding on the inside. Maybe, maybe, a powerful healer who had both the magic and the training could've done it. But he could never have reached them."

"Why not?" Gwen said, wanting some reason to hope.

"He didn't have the power Gwen," Gaius said, sounding as if each word were barbed. "If he didn't have the power to stop two soldiers from seizing us how could he have had the power to transport himself? It takes enormous power and complete focus."

"But he disappeared from here, doesn't that mean he had to reappear _somewhere_?"

Gaius sighed and dipped his rag in the bloody water in the bucket.

"No. It's the reappearing that takes most of the energy. I read about it, in some old texts. He probably just disappeared and never…came back."

"But where would he disappear _to_?" Gwen asked emphatically, wanting to understand everything, anything.

"Nothingness, nowhere," Gaius brought the rag back onto the stone with a wet slap.

"What do you mean nowhere?"

"I mean nowhere Gwen. He is physically non-existent."

Gwen shrank into herself a little.

Several minutes passed and when she spoke again it was in the voice of the defeated.

"Do you believe in heaven or…I don't know…some sort of afterlife, Gaius?"

"No," Gaius said.

After a moment he added,

"But Merlin did."

* * *

Gaius and Gwen were kept constantly under guard. They could walk wherever they liked, only they had an escort. An armed escort.

They had finished cleaning the throne room they then walked back to the servant's quarters to put away their cleaning tools. The guards following them did not pressure or threaten them, but nonetheless the men dogging their feet had made them take quick steps.

They'd been taking one of the outer corridors which had glassless windows open to the breeze. It was lit by lamps; dusk was almost turned into night.

Looking out Gaius had reached for Gwen's arm, pulling her to an abrupt halt.

"They're burning his things," Gaius said quietly.

Indeed, servants were hurrying to the middle of the courtyard under Uther's imperious gaze, throwing Merlin's few possessions onto a burning pyre. The wind blew the fire into swirls, bright sparks flying up but cooling and dying before they met the stars.

The ashes marked it already too late to save any of Merlin's things.

But it wasn't just Merlin's things burning. Gwen could see a pile of Gaius clothes being thrown onto the fire as well, the blackened remains of his herb bags puffing into ash as a log cracked and fell over them.

Gwen guessed that tonight would see a house in the lower town burning. She felt no loss for the house, there was no room in her for anything but grief for Merlin. He was gone and Uther was making sure they didn't even have a scrap of cloth to remember him by.

"Come on, Gaius," she said gently.

She carefully laced her fingers through those of the old man, as though this gesture alone could make everything alright. Gaius seemed to have aged another seventy years in the past few hours and his sudden frailty scared Gwen. Eyeing Uther with an expression that obviously wished him fatal harm, Gaius let Gwen pull him away.

"We should…we should…" Gaius stopped again, seeming to grapple with himself for words.

He half fell down, half sat down. Worried, Gwen sat down with him and held him upright, feeling that if he lay down he may very well die. Gaius grabbed at the hand of hers he wasn't already holding and tears fell from his eyes onto it. He spoke so softly, so thick with tears, the guards hadn't a hope of hearing him, let alone understand him.

"We should…avenge…somehow…"

"Hey, hey," Gwen said firmly, "none of that. Mer…Merlin wouldn't want that."

Her tears fell to join Gaius'. The soldiers shuffled where they stood, possibly feeling uncomfortable at having to guard a servant and an old man, both of whom were crying.

"Merlin wouldn't want us to give up," she whispered, shaking Gaius' hands slightly. "Merlin _wanted _us to survive, to live. That's how we honour him, but living, not by seeking vengeance, not by getting ourselves killed."

Gaius was shaking and Gwen felt another serious pang of worry; she hoped he wasn't about to have a heart attack.

She wondered if the soldiers would run for help if that happened or if they would stand and watch.

"I just…it was…never meant to be this way," Gaius sobbed softly.

"I know," Gwen cried, hugging the old man to her chest, "I know."

She rested her head on his hair. She felt broken inside, but knew she had to be strong for Gaius. If she wasn't strong enough for the both of them Gwen feared they wouldn't both make it out of this grief alive.

**::Arthur::**

The next morning Arthur jerked away as if he'd been slapped. He sat upright but seemed to leave his brain behind. He was miserable, why was he miserable?

He remembered and clutched his head.

He'd _slept_?

How had he _slept_?

He'd slept in a _bed _when Merlin didn't even have a _grave._

Getting to his feet he looked around for clothes so he could leave right now, he needed to get out of this room (and his head) right now. He couldn't find any but, upon looking down, realised he was still wearing the clothes he had changed into yesterday after…it had happened. In the corner of his vision were the pants he had been wearing, knees stained red. He moved away. After thinking for a second Arthur went to his desk and scrawled a quick note then stamped it shut with wax. It was just going to Uther but Arthur knew how Uther valued prestige and importance and felt the wax couldn't hurt. (Couldn't hurt.)

(Daggerthroatdon'tthinkaboutitit'sallIcanthinkabout!)

"Soldiers," Arthur said, stepping into the hall. He tried to sound commanding but his voice was wound tight, he sounded on edge, out of control.

Had he ever had less control?

Had he ever had _any _control?

There were four men outside who now stood to attention. They were not the same men who had forced him into his room the day before; they must have changed in the night.

"I want one of you to take this to the king."

A man stood forwards.

So they hadn't all been under specific orders not to leave his side, Arthur reflected as the man took the letter. It wasn't much information, but with the revelation that Uther was not the person Arthur thought he was, Arthur was going to have to figure out what sort of person he _actually _was. All he would have to work off was small clues…or massive gestures…

(The plan to knock Merlin out, the king asking Arthur to bring him Merlin so he could be knocked out.)

(Merlin falling to the ground…fully conscious…fully aware…)

(Shut up! Arthur cried into himself.)

Closing the door behind him Arthur went to his window and looked out. He saw the small pile of ash in the courtyard, the pyre of Merlin's things, the pyre of the very memory of him, and looked away. His stomach felt bottomless whenever he thought about Merlin; as he couldn't stop thinking about him Arthur walked around feeling like he'd been recently poisoned.

Because it had been his fault, hadn't it?

He hadn't drawn the knife, but he'd as good as done. He'd led Merlin there and made him helpless. No, _worse, _he made Merlin make himself helpless.

He should've known his father would never be satisfied with keeping Merlin captive, he should've known Uther didn't actually care about Arthur's peace of mind. Maybe he had known. Uther's betrayal had come as a shock, but not nearly enough as it should have. Deep down, a part of him had expected this, a part of him he had ignored so he could seek his father's pride in peace.

Merlin.

The cost of Arthur's mistake had been Merlin.

The cost of Arthur's _pride _had been Merlin.

Arthur paced away from the window, to the door and then back. He looked around his room. It didn't just feel different, it was different. One of his candle sticks had fallen apart, having been held together by magic, and there was the musty smell of old stone that pervaded the castle which had before now seemed to spare this room.

And it was empty…empty like a body starving…empty like a dry riverbed with dying villagers looking in.

Arthur looked at the swords on his wall. They reflected the sunlight coming in through the window back into Arthur's eyes. Blinking he looked away, but their long, white shapes took a moment to fade from his vision.

It took longer than he expected, but finally there was a knock on the door; the soldier had returned.

"The king has given you permission to see the traitors, but only on the condition that a soldier is present."

"I understand," Arthur said; he had expected as much.

Frowning, the soldier dragged Gwen in by her arm and after her came Gaius, who was being pushed and jostled by another man. Arthur said nothing at their rough treatment as his words would be counter-productive at best, though his hands clenched by his side. The soldier pushing Gaius left at a quiet word from the first man, who released Gwen with a wince, seemingly having been gripping her so hard his hand had cramped.

Glaring back at him Gwen rotated her arm in its socket, stretching what must be sore muscles.

"You summoned us," Gaius said.

His voice wasn't the cold of fury; it was the cold of slimy, blind things that had never seen the light.

His expression wasn't dead like death, it was dead like life gone terribly, irreversibly wrong.

And his eyes were different. Though sunken in folds of soft, wrinkled skin they were hard as chips of ice, chips of metal, arrowheads aimed at Arthur.

With a quick glance to the soldier Arthur stepped forwards.

"If I didn't get my father's permission to see you it would have made things worse."

"Worse?" Gaius' voice rattled like spilt bones, "worse?"

Arthur felt like he'd been kicked in the chest by a horse but bowed his head, saying,

"Yes. Worse."

"Worse than Merlin dying, you mean."

Looking up again Arthur abruptly realised that Gaius' eyes weren't glinting with malice. The light in them was a reflection of the sun, bright on a sheen of tears.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Arthur could say this in nothing more than a whisper.

"You _knew_, you've always known the risk your father posed to him," Gaius snarled, coming alive, dying. "But you took Merlin too him and you made Merlin weak and your father powerful, and you expect me to believe you didn't suspect exactly what happened to happen?"

"I…my father promised he wouldn't hurt him…" Arthur said softly, fed by some tiny, desperate need to explain himself.

Gaius strode forwards. Behind him the solder moved restlessly on the wall but didn't seem to think Gaius was dangerous enough to warrant intercepting. His attitude changed when Gaius raised his hand and smacked Arthur hard on the face. The soldier took two steps forwards, hand going to his sword, but Gwen beat him. Grabbing onto Gaius hand, which had raised to deliver a second blow, she pulled him back, away from Arthur.

Arthur hadn't moved, it hadn't hurt. The worst thing about it was that despite Gaius' towering grief he was too weak to express it, his hand had patted across Arthur's face painlessly.

Arthur wished Gaius had broken his jaw.

"Merlin wouldn't want this," Gwen said quietly, the first words she'd said since entering the room.

"Merlin doesn't want anything anymore," Gaius snarled, trying to raise his hand again, "thanks to this…this…"

Words failed him, he spat at Arthur's feet.

"Merlin _wouldn't want this_," Gwen repeated emphatically, as though those four words were all that mattered.

"He wouldn't want us to become like them…not even because of his death."

On 'them' she shot Arthur a look a purest loathing, of agony and betrayal and heartbreak. Arthur winced his eyes closed and averted his face, feeling like he'd taken a knife in the gut and thoroughly deserved it.

"I know I should've known better," he said to the floor, leaning away from Gaius and Gwen as if they were his father coming forwards to hit him.

"But I did believe...or hope…maybe…that I had, I don't know, gotten through to…convinced…my father to spare him."

"What did you promise him?" Gaius shook Gwen from his arm but remained where he was, "Uther would never have given away Merlin's life easily and I could tell you were planning something. You were acting weirdly before…What did you think was going to happen?"

"I…my father had told me that there was a chance Merlin had spelled my thoughts...so…he wanted to execute him, but I told him Merlin might not have, I told him Merlin might have been innocent," Arthur looked up imploringly but Gaius and Gwen were still looking at him with betrayed eyes. "But…I couldn't be sure what my father said wasn't true, because if Merlin _had _spelled my thoughts I wouldn't have been able to tell…"

"Merlin would never do that," Gaius growled, then realised what tense he had used and made a soft cry in his throat before correcting himself, "would never have done that."

"I know but…I don't know…my father…"

"So what were you going to do?" Gwen interrupted his stutterings.

Arthur looked up in anguish. The truth…at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do, but now he had to reveal what he and his father had planned...it was so obviously wrong.

He shivered but there was no way out.

Inside he was sick sick sick.

Arthur knew that as soon as he had uttered the words the looks Gwen and Gaius would give him would kill a small part of his heart.

But he had to tell them, he realised that. After all he done and failed to do, he had to tell them.

He deserved his friends hating him, they deserved to know everything they were hating him for.

"I wouldn't let my father kill him…so…so my father convinced me there would be a way for me to know I was free of Merlin's influence, and that it was the only way. I…we…"

Arthur sighed and the fear and fight fell out of his voice.

"We were going to bleed him so he'd be too weak to do any magic."

Gaius reeled back a step, gasping in one breath before his eyes closed and tears ran down his cheeks. The pain of him was palpable.

Gwen trembled once all over and put a hand to her mouth, eyes fixed on Arthur's face.

"I was…I thought it was the only way…"

A whisper came from behind Gwen's hand, stopping Arthur in his tracks.

"Monster," she burst out, stepping forwards, "he was your _friend, _he _protected _you, and you were going to _bleed _him? Like a criminal? Like some sort of _animal going to the slaughter?_"

She stepped forwards again. Gaius did nothing to restrain her as she had for him a moment ago. Arthur had to force himself to not step back.

"He _trusted _you and you led him on! You used his trust to make him helpless for your filthy murdering father."

The solider behind her cleared his throat, uncomfortable at the slander against the king's name, but Gwen didn't give any sign of noticing or caring.

"He would've died for you, Arthur, and you killed him."

Arthur's throat closed over and he closed his eyes, dying.

"Look at me," Gwen snarled from right in front of him, "_look at me_."

Arthur opened his eyes. For a long moment Gwen looked inside them, looking from one eye to the other, searching for something she could forgive.

She found nothing. Gwen made a horrible disgusted noise in her throat and stepped back, as though being close to Arthur made her feel sick.

"You can…" Arthur started but his throat wasn't working, he breathed in.

He was crying.

"You can hit me, if you want to."

Gwen looked at him with withering revulsion.

"Because that would solve everything," she said, "more violence."

"I'm sorry," Arthur was full on crying now.

The soldier by the wall looked highly uncomfortable but Arthur didn't have room for that in his head. He was sobbing, tears running down his eyes, dripping across his nose and into his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I really didn't. I'm so sorry."

Gwen was crying now too but still stepping away, away.

"I don't know how you could do this. I thought I knew you, I loved you."

The past tense sliced inside Arthur's head.

"I don't know how you had the…the…capacity for this…all this time…and I never suspected…"

"I'm sorry!" Arthur felt sick, venomous, contagious.

"Please…I…please…"

"Please what? Forgive you?" Gwen turned away now, moving to Gaius where he'd been standing, crying on his own. "I don't even know how you can find it within yourself to ask that of me."

And she and Gaius left; shooting worried looks at Arthur the soldier followed them.

And Arthur just stood there in the knowledge that he had failed everyone and that everything was broken.


	11. Chapter 11: Murder in the throne room

**Good morning/afternoon/whatever time it is wherever you are,**

**How are you today?**

**Good? **

**Good. **

**I'm glad.**

**You almost didn't get this chapter. My computer has recently been in the advanced stages of dying and today it almost carked it. However I was able to rush it to an IT place for the awesome guy there to revive it. **

**Here's a little bit of friendly advice; be nice to people. Be nice to people even if you are paying them to do something, because then if something goes wrong it will be much less awkward for you to go back for help and they will be more inclined to help you.**

**That and you should just be nice to people because it's nice when people are nice.**

**Either way, you **_**will**_** be getting this chapter (evidently as I have uploaded it) and I sincerely hope you enjoy it. **

**(Though with my computer's reliability questionable I apologise in advance if any chapters are late up. I have the story backed up on a hard drive. The idea of losing all that is yet to be uploaded sends chills down my spine, which isn't actually that bad as its about thousand degrees in Australia at the moment.)**

**As for me, I am currently obsessed with the tv show All Saints, which is an Australian medical drama. Uni has also started for the year, which I have multiple clashing opinions on, and I have taken up taekwondo with results that are amusing for others and embarrassing for myself. But, you know, I'll try to persist so that if someone laughs at me I can body slam them or something…actually no, that would be a massive overreaction.**

**But you know what I mean.**

**Anyway, on with the show!**

* * *

**Chapter 11: Murder in the throne room. **

**::Arthur::**

Arthur didn't understand how he made it through the following days. It was as if he was half conscious the entire time or having some prolonged out of body experience. He felt dead inside, unlovable and unforgiveable, even by himself. He hated himself, he horrified himself. The only purpose he had left in life was to protect Gaius and Gwen from his father and that he could only do by obeying him, which was what had made everything go wrong in the first place.

Four days after Merlin's death (Arthur's heart quailed at the memory) the knights returned from patrol. Arthur saw this from the castle wall, where had fled as if height could save him.

Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan and Percival, men he would've gone so far as to call his friends, were amongst them. Arthur saw Leon come out from the castle and welcome them back but his body language was grim and he led them away quickly. Arthur knew he was taking them to tell them of what had happened and he wanted to climb higher. He wanted to climb into the sky or go to some foreign land where nobody knew him or his past…some foreign land where _he _didn't know of his past…somewhere he could begin again, or even just disappear.

He couldn't though, the castle went no higher, and if he stayed on this remote wall for long enough somebody might see him and come looking for him. If Arthur stayed still for too long he may catch up with himself.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen sat upright, heart thumping fearfully in her chest. Outside of her and Gaius' small cupboard of a room she could hear raised voices, angry voices.

"Gaius," she said, shaking him awake.

Groaning from his place on the floor Gaius looked up with questioning eyes.

"Something's happening outside, Gaius."

"What?" He asked.

"I don't know, but there are people yelling and…"

Suddenly Gwen was on her feet; she'd recognized one of the voices.

"Elyan!"

It was her brother, back from patrol. She could just make out what he was yelling.

"Let me through, she's my sister! I want to see her!"

The guards at her and Gaius door rumbled in response.

"I'd like to see _you _try and stop me, Gregory. I've seen your footwork."

Gwen leapt to her feet. The last thing any of them needed was for Elyan to get himself into trouble over her. She opened the door; as it was the equivalent of a cupboard it had no lock, hence the guards.

"Elyan, knock it off!" She shouted over the back of the solder.

Elyan's eyes twisted around to see her.

"Gwen, is it true? Is what Leon said true? Is Merlin dead?"

The familiar pain jolted through her gut and she nodded.

"The traitors are not allowed visitors!" The soldier protested, shoving Elyan back with the handle of his pike.

"Traitors?" Elyan snapped, "they're aren't traitors! Gwen, what's going on?"

"Leave it Elyan! I can't…ask Arthur!"

"Isn't Arthur the one who locked you up?" Elyan asked, tone shaprer then the sword he shifted in his hand.

The soldier raised his pike, making Gwen grab it to stop him from goring her brother.

"Don't hurt him," she snapped at Gregory, "he doesn't understand that I'm not allowed…"

"Get off," the man snarled and wrenched the pike from her grip.

He turned and stepped menacingly towards Elyan, who wasn't backing down. Elyan drew his sword.

"NO!" Gwen grabbed at the pike again.

"Get _off!_" Gregory snarled and this time instead of jerking the weapon from her hands he jabbed it backwards into her stomach.

Gwen gasped, winded, and reeled back but to her surprise there was a sizzling sound and Gregory stumbled sharply in the opposite direction, tripping over in the narrow hall and sprawling to the ground.

The soldier pushed himself up, looking furiously at Elyan, who he evidently suspected as being the cause of his fall.

From her place against the wall Gwen looked up, gasping, her stomach knotting in some indiscernible emotion. Elyan was looking at her, sword still drawn but wanting to make sure she was okay. She looked up at him wide eyed, not really seeing him.

"What did you do to her?" Elyan yelled, sounding distant.

Gregory yelled back, but Gwen was ignoring them. She turned, in a daze, to go back to her and Gaius' room.

Gaius was standing in the doorway, mouth agape, staring at her.

"Did you...?" She asked, hoping against hope.

He nodded.

"It can't be," she said, but her voice was trembling, "we shouldn't…it's an after affect…it can't mean anything… don't get your hopes…"

But she turned back and looked to the place where Gregory had fallen.

Something had pushed him back…something had crackled with energy, reacting when he had hurt her. Some mysterious force had protected her…or…maybe not so mysterious…

She barely dared to breathe.

Don't get your hopes up, you'll just make yourself feel wretched.

It's impossible.

He was murdered in that throne room. He died.

It's _impossible._

But she kept looking at where the air had sparked, and she felt a burning brand awaken in her heart.

Because impossible had never stopped him before.

**::Arthur::**

"...and the reserves needed to be replenished soon in order for…"

Arthur watched the table and not whichever advisor was speaking. He followed the grain with his hand, touching it lightly with one finger.

"…in the event of a siege, mouldy grain is the last…"

He wondered which tree the table had come from, certainly a great one; it was a huge slab of wood.

"…growing population in the city calls for increased quantities…"

He didn't even know what sort of tree it came from. Arthur wondered if there would be any way to learn.

"And what are the expected expenses of a new storage facility?" Uther's voiced droned out.

Geoffrey might know or might be able to point Arthur in the right direction. Was there a specific carpenter the castle bought from?

"…purchased on bulk and reselling the excess to individual nobles could reduce overall…"

* * *

Hours later Arthur left the meeting, but he didn't go and see Geoffrey about the table.

It was stupid, it was pointless, he didn't care.

Merlin would've found out for him. Idiot probably would've already known and bored Arthur stupid if the prince asked. Arthur stopped in the hallway and ran his hand over the wall, ignoring the looks from people passing him.

Where did the castle get its stone from? Was there a specific quarry? It would have to be, it was all the same. Even the repairs were made with the same stone.

Merlin would've found out.

Arthur turned away suddenly from the wall and collided with someone.

"Sorry," he said automatically, stepping back, but the person was stepping forwards.

Before Arthur could do more than say 'hey!' the person had grabbed fists of cloth at his shoulders and pushed him against the wall.

"Get off me!" He said sharply, reaching for his sword.

"Is it true?"

It was Gwaine, Arthur stopped reaching for his sword, choosing to apply himself to trying to prise Gwaine's hands off instead.

"Is what true?"

"Did you kill Merlin?"  
Arthur froze.

Leon, who observed the world so quietly Arthur often forgot he was there had told them what had happened just as Arthur had thought he would.

"Did you?" Gwaine pulled Arthur forwards just so he could thump him back again and with a scrunching of his soul Arthur realised Gwaine, arrogant, roguish Gwaine was _crying._

Arthur felt embarrassed for him but there was nowhere to look away too, Gwaine demanded his every attention.

"Gwaine," a hand appeared on Gwaine's shoulder, Lancelot's hand, but it was ignored.

"I…yes…" Arthur said. Gwaine dropped him, stepped back and struck Arthur as hard as he could across the face. Arthur's shoulder hit the wall and his hand flew up instinctively to hold his jaw, which felt like fire and a throbbing pulse.

Lancelot was wrestling Gwaine back as Arthur blinked the daze from his eyes.

"He killed him, he killed Merlin!"

"He was a sorcerer, Gwaine."

Arthur spoke out of the weary knowledge that Gwaine had a right to know, but his knight thought he was trying to excuse what he had done, judging by the way he struggled violently in Lancelot's grip.

"WHO CARES?" Gwaine yelled, "You killed Merlin. _Merlin! Our Merlin._ How could you? I'll _kill _you."

"Gwaine!" Lancelot yelled sharply, getting between Gwaine and Arthur and shoving.

"How can you defend him?" Gwaine cried in anguish, gesturing at Arthur around the other knight.

"I'm not defending what he did," Lancelot said in a cold voice, "but he is our Prince. We swore oaths to him."

"We swore on the code of honour," Gwaine snarled. His loose black hair had fallen forwards over his face and he stank of sweat and dirt; he hadn't washed since returning from patrol.

"We swore to uphold justice…not support _murderers._"

"You don't get to choose when and when not to be loyal," Lancelot replied.

Arthur couldn't see his face but he could hear the strain in Lancelot's voice.

"So you still want to serve him? After what he did? You said before that you knew! You knew Merlin was using his magic for good! And you are going to _defend the prince killing him?_"

"_I'm not defending what he did,_" Lancelot repeated, "but we swore _oaths. _To break them would betray ourse-"

He got no further, Gwaine had punched him in the mouth.

"Hurting Arthur wouldn't bring Merlin back," Lancelot said, spitting out blood (blood running from Merlin's mouth.) Arthur clutched at his head.

"It'd be a good place to start," Gwaine snarled, trying to dart forwards.

A part of Arthur felt ashamed at letting Lancelot defend him, but he couldn't defend himself. No, he wouldn't defend himself. Not from these people, not from these friends he had wronged.

"Stop it," Lancelot pushed Gwaine back roughly, stepping forwards as Gwaine rose and pushing him back again.

"Go and get changed, cool off. Let me deal with Arthur."

Gwaine glared at Lancelot then gave Arthur a look that would've killed him if it could, it certainly tried.

"I resign my post as a knight of Camelot," Gwaine said and spat at Arthur.

The spit fell short of the mark but it was the thought that counted.

He turned to leave but looked back once more to Lancelot.

"If you're still loyal to Arthur because he's the prince and you swore an oath of honour…if you're still loyal to Arthur because you want to keep being a knight _so badly_," Gwaine clenched his fists and wiggled them in a terrible parody of passion, "then we are no longer friends."

"Gwaine," Lancelot said imploringly but Gwaine simply turned away. Gwaine was such a physical, flamboyant person, which somehow made this tiny, defeated, repelled gesture echo throughout the corridor. Lancelot was silent.

"If you are loyal to him," Gwaine pronounced every word carefully, as if saying them too rashly would make them cut his mouth, "then you are complicit in Merlin's murder, and should we cross swords I will cut you down."

"Gwaine!" Lancelot called again, but this time Gwaine did not answer. He strode away down the empty hall, fury in every line and movement of his body. Gwaine's fists were trembling and his footsteps were angry, as though he wished to fill the world with his grief, as if he were bleeding with the pain of it.

"I really didn't mean for Mer-" Arthur began but to his surprise Lancelot span to face him with a furious expression.

"Don't," Lancelot said.

"But I want to expla-"

"Don't," Lancelot's eyes closed with a spasm and his jaw clenched.

Arthur didn't speak again and after a moment Lancelot drew himself together and opened his eyes again.

"I'm loyal to the position of the crown, not to you," Lancelot said in a constricted voice. "I am loyal to the people of Camelot I swore to protect. I am loyal to Merlin, even if he is only a memory. I will hold to my word but…" words failed him and he shook his head from side to side slowly.

Arthur waited. It was quite terrible, knowing that Lancelot's restraint came only from Arthur's royal blood and not any friendship or memory of honour.

"You should _beg _for forgiveness from anyone who'll listen," Lancelot said. He stepped back.

"You have _no idea _what Merlin did for you and you have _no idea _of what you have done."

And he turned and left, taking his knowledge of everything Merlin had done with him.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen arrived at the linen rack at the same time as Gaius. She was bringing clean ones and he was coming to get some, so Gwen handed hers straight to him. There weren't any other servants around them and their guards had remained outside. They hadn't had an opportunity to talk privately after the incident with the guard until now.

"What is it, exactly, that we saw?" Gwen demanded quickly, "what does it mean?"

"I don't know," Gaius shook his head. "It could be a lingering spell or…"

"Could it be Merlin?" Gwen said, her voice getting even lower, as if saying his name out loud could jinx into nonexistence the tiny hope cradled in each of their chests.

"Yes," Gaius said slowly, then again, "yes."

"What else could it be?" Gwen asked trying both to convince herself it was him and prepare herself in case it wasn't.

"Well, as I said there is the magical phenomenon of lingering spells. Only…"

"Yes?"

"Lingering spells are when their source of power disappears and they exist for a short while on the energy they still contain. But the shields disappeared completely…there would be no magic for them to start again or linger on," Gaius glanced at the door.

"But you said Merlin was dead, that if he didn't have the power to fuel the shields he couldn't have teleported anywhere," Gwen forced out.

"Merlin has always been a magical oddity," Gaius said, and Gwen noticed he didn't correct himself to past tense.

"He has flouted many widely held magical theories before. Perhaps he only had just enough magic to teleport and couldn't support the shields and now, if he's healing somewhere, they are returning with his strength."

"His throat was cut, Gaius," Gwen said with a pained grimace, "people don't survive stuff like that."

"If he teleported to a powerful healer…" Gaius said thoughtfully. "I don't know…maybe…"

Gwen's chest was burning with a hope so intense it was painful; she could hardly fit words around it.

She was about to ask Gaius if there were any healer's powerful enough that Merlin could've fled to when they suddenly heard running down the corridor outside. In the distance they heard a crush of yells and a sharp _BOOM._

"What was that?" Gwen asked, sharing an alarmed look with Gaius. They moved out into the corridor and were assaulted with the sickly smell of ozone. The air itself seemed to be rippling.

Underneath their feet the floor quaked.

Gwen looked at Gaius and said again,

"What was that?"

**::Arthur::**

After his confrontation with Gwaine and Lancelot, Arthur had been with his father in his study. Normally if Uther was reading and signing documents Arthur would go and train the knights, but as his father wanted to keep an eye on him Arthur had stayed.

He'd been disinterestedly tilting his head to try and read the spine of a book sitting on a shelf nearby when a servant burst in.

"What do you think-" Uther had begun, enraged, when the servant spoke over him (extremely bold, for a servant. Almost like…well…)

"Sorcerer!" The servant was gasping.

Arthur sat bolt upright.

"In the throne room," the servant was bent nearly double as he gasped for breath but still tried to address Uther, "said he wanted to see you, sire."

Uther didn't call the servant on his disrespect, possibly because he mistook his gasping position for a bow. Instead he was on his feet and at the door before the servant could say anything else.

"What did he look like?" Arthur demanded as the man, wheezing, sank into the king's vacated seat.

"Black hair," the man gasped, "bit pale."

He made a weird gesture at his face that could've meant anything.

It couldn't be…

Arthur turned and sprinted after his father.

It was impossible, Gaius had said so. But then, if it were possible Gaius would hardly tell him.

And impossible had kind of been his style.

If it was…if this was some sort of second chance…

Arthur's heart pounded, not just because he was running.

He wouldn't waste it.

He wouldn't waste it.

Arthur skidded around corners and in his haste nearly fell down more than once on his way. When he got to the throne room he burst through those same doors Merlin had burst through the day he had revealed himself. Arthur hit them so hard it felt like he nearly broke both of his wrists.

He lunged inside, looking around wildly, hoping, hoping…

(please)

"Hello, Arthur."

The ground fell out Arthur's world as he skidded to a halt.

Dark haired and pale skinned, Mordred lounged on the throne looking down to where the two Pendragon's stood before him, rooted to the stone with horror. There were knights pressed against the wall.

Unbeatable foe in the throne room, the knights must've heard someone say.

Let's go, the knights must've said.

"So glad you could join us. I really didn't want to start without you."

Arthur was winded with shock and sudden despair.

(Of course it wasn't Merlin…Merlin was _dead._)

_Fool_, for hoping so.

"I couldn't help but notice," Mordred stood up slowly and looked around, seemingly mildly interested with the restorations the room had undergone, "a few changes in Camelot. New floor, different decorations…"

"You…you…" Uther was snarling but seemed unable to move, "filthy little sorcerer…you…wait…you…'til I get my hands on you…"

"Like you got your hands on dear old Merlin?" Mordred said, turning to Uther with a sudden, horrible smile.

Oh _no_.

"Because that was something I noticed about Camelot," Mordred gestured expansively and span a slow circle on one heel, "it's not protected anymore."

This was very, very bad, Arthur thought.

Suddenly Mordred whipped around to face Uther and slashed down with one hand.

"Brecan."

All around Uther the stone broke with an almighty _CRACK!_

Uther was flinching but surrounded, there was nowhere to flinch to.

"Leave him alone!" Arthur yelled and as he moved to step forwards he found he could not.

It was all going wrong, just as it went wrong before.

But now there was no Merlin to save them.

There was white noise in Arthur's head and a burning loss in his gut.

"I'm here to finish what _he _started," Mordred said and hissed the magic word again with a small flicking gesture towards Uther.

Uther instinctively put out an arm in defense, as if any defense was possible.

With a muffled crack his arm changed shape.

"Father!" Arthur yelled, voice high with horror.

Uther hunched over his arm, looking at Mordred without fear or pain. There was room in Uther for hatred alone.

"You magical little scum, you unnatural beast of…"

"I didn't come here to be told off by the likes of you," Mordred interrupted with a condescending and slightly bored expression.

"There isn't room in the world for both of us, Uther."

Behind Arthur the doors banged open, he couldn't turn to see who it was but somehow he knew anyway.

"Mordred?" Gaius' voice sounded out of breath and startled.

"Oh, hello Gaius," Mordred said, "here to watch the show?"

"What are you doing?" Gaius asked, as if it wasn't clear.

"I'm stopping a murderer, you?"

Gwen moved forwards, standing between Arthur and Uther so that Arthur could see her out of the corner of his eye.

"By murdering?" Gwen asked. Mordred looked down at her, eyes unnaturally mature in such a young face.

"Yes," he replied, "and you are…?"

"Gwen."

"Gwen," he said thoughtfully, like the name rang a bell. "Gwen…Gwen…wait…no…"

He looked distractedly around for a moment, then his expression leapt.

"I remember! You're Morgana's old servant. Hah! Boy, she's not happy with you!"

"Oh yes," Gwen said in an odd tone of attempted nonchalance voice, "what's she up to these days?"

Mordred looked amused; as Gwen stepped towards Arthur he made no move to stop her, only answering,

"Mostly she's just trying to teach that stupid lizard English."

This didn't make a lot of sense to Arthur.

Maybe Morgana had snapped.

Again.

Gwen took another step towards Arthur.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing?" Mordred grinned.

"Oh, you know," Gwen shrugged, stopping her sidling, "trying to figure out how to get out of here alive."

"I don't you are," Mordred said and started walking down the steps.

"The doors are in the opposite direction."

"Get out of here Gwen," Arthur muttered.

She ignored him.

"If you think standing between Arthur and I will save him you are very much mistaken. It will take more than a common martyr to stop _me._"

Mordred was at the base of the steps now and was ambling towards them. Dropping all pretences Gwen took a few quick steps and stood before Arthur.

"But why are you saving him? I thought you were friends with dear old Merlin, and this guy caused his death. Maybe you were less affectionate then you made out to be, or maybe you just value the prince's _bed_ more than the people he has murdered!"

Mordred wasn't smiling any more, nor was he ambling. His stride was still swinging and slow, but it was calculating and menacing. He had gone from relaxed superiority to a calculating predator in the time it took to inhale a single breath.

"Shut up," Gwen snapped. Mordred's head swung low and his magic crackled around.

"He's a murderer. They are both," his eyes flicked to Uther, "murderers."

Uther struggled where he stood; a gesture that made Arthur suddenly realise the magic that had been binding himself to one spot was gone.

He flexed a hand experimentally and shuffled a toe, yes, he was free.

"They will pay for their crimes and if you stand in the way you will as well."

Arthur drew his sword, which gave a metallic _shring_ as it swung free from its scabbard.

"Get back Gwen!" Arthur yelled.

Mordred looked at him startled. The boy's expression clenched then became confused, then back to calculating. Arthur tried to step away from Gwen to draw away the boy's gaze but Gwen grabbed his arm and stayed in front of him.

Mordred's gaze flicked from Arthur to her.

"What is this? That isn't _yours._"

Arthur had no idea what Mordred was talking about…again.

"Gaius," Gwen said in an intense, meaningful tone that was completely lost on Arthur. She stared at the man. Gaius looked at her then at Uther, who was a few meters away. After a long, breathing moment he looked back to Gwen. Through the hand holding him back Arthur felt Gwen stiffen.

"That's…no…" Mordred said, sounding like he was thinking aloud.

A force whistled over Arthur and Gwen's heads like a great wind they could hear but not feel. Arthur resisted the urge to duck for cover.

"That's impossible, who's protecting you?" Mordred snarled, clenching his small boy's fists.

"Gaius," Gwen said, more urgently.

Mordred's eyes snapped to Gaius, Gwen, Uther, back to Gaius.

The old man was shaking his head t Gwen with a pained expression.

"I can't Gwen. If there's even a chance he's…the king would only…"

"Gaius," Uther said, confused but trying vainly to sound imperious, "what is going on?"

A crackle of energy raced around the room and Uther went rigid as if flew over him; Gaius did not seem to feel it.

"Gaius?" Gwen said, sounding suddenly scared.

Mordred looked between Gaius and Uther again, now with dawning eagerness. Arthur was completely confused, why did Gwen keep repeating Gaius' name?

"Yeah, Gaius," Mordred was smiling again, "what're you going to do, old man?"

Gaius looked sad and old and lost but when he spoke his voice had ring of finality in it.

"You know why I can't do it Gwen. He'll never stop hunting him. This is the only way."

Gwen looked at him for a long moment…then nodded.

As if this was what Gaius had needed, what he had been waiting for, Gaius stepped away from the king, turning towards the door.

Mordred smiled, expression slightly astonished as if he couldn't believe his luck.

"Make it quick, Mordred. Don't be cruel" Gaius said, pausing at the door.

He looked at Uther, who seemed to sense Gaius' eyes on him and turned his head from Mordred.

"I'm sorry sire," Gaius said quietly.

Then he left, closing the door softly behind him.

"Sorry for what? What's happening? Where are you going?" Uther yelled to no response.

Mordred had a funny expression on his face. He was looking at where Gaius had left, looking like he'd just realised a present he'd been given wasn't quite what he'd thought it was.

"Very well, old man," Mordred said, but he said it before he looked at Uther, as though Gaius was still in the room. Finally looking away from the door he raised one hand in Uther's direction.

"What are you doing? Leave him alone!" Arthur yelled and moved towards his father.

However as soon as he moved out from behind Gwen it felt like he was stepping in front of a huge bonfire and his legs seized up with the familiar magical bindings. Gwen turned to look at him, saying something.

"Say goodbye to your father, Arthur Pendragon," Mordred said in a voice that cut over Gwen's.

"No!" Arthur's eyes widened, "don't hurt him, take me, Mordred!"

"Are those your last words?" Mordred said, turning his eyes onto Arthur.

Arthur struggled forwards but was stopped again.

Gwen held his arm.

"Father!" Arthur was confused, desperate. He didn't know what was going on but somehow he knew what was going to happen.

"Do your worst you stupid little sorcerer," Uther snarled at Mordred.

Mordred's head raised, his hand twitched into a casting position.

"Father!" Arthur yelled again, Uther glanced at him once, then looked back to Mordred in time to see him cry,

"Abréotan!"

Uther collapsed.

"No!" Arthur yelled, Gwen had turned and was holding him now.

"Father! No! What did you do Mordred? Get up, father!" Arthur yelled, writhing, trying to escape Gwen's iron grip.

Mordred was looking at Uther, a terrible satisfied expression on his face. He stood there for a long time, evidently savouring the sight of Uther, crumpled (no, no, no) on the floor. Then he turned to Gwen and Arthur and his face twitched with irritation at the sight of them so close together, at the sight of Gwen guarding Arthur, Gwen…who, somehow, he could not harm.

"You cannot protect him forever," Mordred spat at her.

Then the stone cracked as, with a scream of wind, he disappeared.

Gwen stepped back and let go of Arthur. The searing force that had shocked Arthur whenever he had moved away from Gwen vanished and she let Arthur go and run across the room to fall to his knees by his father's broken body.

Uther lay on his front, his knees folded beneath him in an unnatural position, in an undignified position.

He looked like a drunkard slumped forward in a gutter, not a king who had just been slain.

"Father? Father?" Arthur rolled Uther onto his side. The king's face was slack, his eyes half closed. Arthur shook him, then put his hand to his father's throat, feeling for a pulse.

He checked Uther's wrist, then his neck again.

Nothing.

_Nothing._

"Father?" He said softly, shaking him gently now. Gently because he knew it was hopeless and he meant his father's body no disrespect.

For a moment the thought of Uther's spirit looking at Arthur shaking his deserted body struck the prince, the new king. Arthur had to stop himself from flinching back.

He wasn't repulsed by his father's slack body, the way his flesh had lost its life, the way the warmth of life was now like that of a vacated seat, of soft, oily wax.

Arthur closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively.

This body had held his father's spirit _just now_, it wasn't different, it was his father.

His hands trembled.

Gwen was standing where he had left her and the knights, released from Mordred's grip, were standing away from the wall. They milled around, not sure what to do or where to go.

"Wake up," Arthur said very quietly.

Not again, he thought, he wasn't losing somebody _again._

But he _had _lost someone again and denying his death would not bring the king back to life.

"The king is dead," cried one of the knights tremulously, like a lonely lark at the first sign of dawn.

"Llong live the king."

**::Gwen::**

In the turmoil that followed no soldier followed Gwen from the throne room.

Arthur was surrounded by knights and nobles and she couldn't get near him; she didn't want to get near him.

Gwen wasn't sure why she had saved him, only that it had seemed both very right and very wrong at the same time.

Arthur would be a threat if he found out Merlin was alive, but whilst Gwen didn't, couldn't, forgive him, she also couldn't forget the look in Arthur's eyes when he had said 'I didn't mean for this to happen.' She couldn't not believe that Arthur might be truly sorry.

And though it had still happened; Merlin had still had his throat laid open by the king's butcher, the fact of whether or not he was dead…

Well…

Did everyone really have to die? Merlin and Arthur?

If there was a chance that Merlin was still alive, was everything really beyond saving?

Gwen hurried to find Gaius.

It took her a while and every time she encountered a knight or a soldier she expected them to seize her and lock her up but nobody paid her any attention. The castle was in turmoil. Gaius was not in their cupboard/room, nor was he in his old quarters (the stone walls were blackened with the fire the soldiers must've lit there, which made Gwen's heart sad.)

Pausing next to a statue of some long since dead king's head Gwen tried to think how Gaius must've felt.

Where would she go if she had just refused to use her possibly dead nephew's magical shield to save the king, the once friend of hers, who had killed him?

Turning on one heel Gwen set off for the library.

As she had expected she found him talking to Geoffrey. Gaius had removed all of the texts on sorcery he could find in the library, but all of his things had been burnt. Gwen heard him asking Geoffrey if there were any books on sorcery left that hadn't been burnt.

"The king took a few," Geoffrey said in such a plain voice that Gwen wondered if he knew the king he spoke of was dead, "but he always burnt them after he read them."

As Geoffrey turned away to reshuffle some books so they stood in perfect alphabetical order Gwen moved to Gaius' side.

"Merlin's magic was definitely protecting us."

"I just wanted to do some reading…make sure…" Gaius was wringing his hands, reminding Gwen oddly of the warlock of whom they spoke.

She knew what Gaius was thinking, having thought it so much herself.

He didn't want to hope, he didn't _want _to believe Merlin was alive, because if, after all, he wasn't it would just _kill _Gaius inside.

He'd survived Merlin's death once, he couldn't do it twice.

Deep inside, in her bones and her heart, Gwen believed Merlin was out there, somewhere, breathing.

She inhaled and wondered fleetingly if Merlin was inhaling at the same time. Were they in sync, miles apart? It was a silly thought, but an oddly comforting one.

He was alive.

She would believe.

She would've give up, not when there was still a skerrick of hope left.

"But where would he have gone?" Gwen asked, frustrated.

"Where would you go if your best friend tried to have you murdered?" Gaius asked her, thinking like Merlin just as Gwen had thought like Gaius in order to find him.

Gwen looked at the old man, eyes widening.

"_Home._"

**::Hunith::**

Hunith thanked the stars that she was home that day. If she hadn't been she would've had the most horrible surprise the next time she'd entered the house. As it was it took days for her heart to stop pounding, crying with every heartbeat and memory. The idea of her not having been there was haunting…unthinkable.

She'd been sitting on her bed in her big, one roomed house, reading a scrappy old book she'd borrowed from one of her neighbours. Hunith made a point of reading as much as she could so that on the rare occasion she received a letter she would not find she had forgotten how to do so. She practised writing as well, using dust or charcoal as cheap materials.

Suddenly a great wind had picked up in her house, so strong the page Hunith had opened had parted with the book with a single tug. The table had overturned and her cupboards had rattled open, dropping her few stores of grain and dried fruit onto the floor.

She had gotten to her feet but by then had recognized the magic flooding the air and so she wasn't scared. This changed abruptly when her son appeared out of the whirl of air with blood covering his shirt from the huge, gaping wound in his throat.

"Merlin!" She'd choked out in horror, leaping forwards instinctively, desperately, to help.

Merlin had staggered and collapsed forwards into her arms, blooding pouring from his throat, his mouth, smeared on the hands that couldn't decide if they should grasp his wound or his mother.

Merlin had been audibly choking.

Off balance Hunith had sunk to the ground with him, pushing her hand desperately to his neck to try and stem the bleeding. Hunith didn't ask him what had happened, it didn't matter. Knowing how this injury had come about wouldn't help her save him.

"Hold on!" She had yelled, grabbing the sheet from the bed behind her and pressing it against the wound.

But the gash was too big; he'd already lost too much blood. There was a bloodied handprint on his face from where he must've clutched it, and through the blood was a tear track. He reached blindly for his mother's hand; Hunith grabbed him, trying to hold his spirit inside his body with her bare hands. Merlin's eyes were going in and out of focus as he tried to look at her and his skin was shivering like he had a fever.

There was no medical treatment that could save him.

Her son was dying in her arms.

Hunith had very little magic and that which she did have she had very little control over. But where her magic was weak her heart was strong. Her anguish and love for Merlin burnt inside her so intensely it felt like it would make her sick. She grabbed onto both feelings and with her strength of will, in a way that may have been done before but had never been understood or explained, seared her magic and love together. Her ferocious will to save Merlin fuelled the spark of magic and, holding one had around his haemorrhaging throat, Hunith had _forced _her magic to save him.

A white gold light had blazed in her head and almost drove her focus from her.

The hand on Merlin's throat felt like it was clutching a metal brand fresh from the furnace but she didn't let go. Merlin had struggled in her grip, whether consciously or not she couldn't tell, but she held him tightly.

Not letting him go.

Never letting him go.

After a second that seemed to last a year, seven years, seven thousand years, something inside Hunith's mind had clicked.

It was okay to let go.

She clung to Merlin, gasping into his bloodied hair.

Merlin's eyes had been half open and unfocused but, after a pause that had hooked its claws in Hunith's heart, his chest had moved.

He took in a ragged breath, the first he had since his throat had been opened in Camelot, then coughed and hunched over. Hunith had held him steady as he retched and coughed and the blood he had been drowning on ran from his mouth. Pulling the sheet closer, ready to press it to the wound if need be, Hunith had peeked hesitantly between her fingers.

The wound had been healed.

That had been three days ago.

Now Hunith sat on her chair next to her bed with a cloth and a bowl of water in her hand.

She'd changed Merlin into some of his spare clothes which she kept for him. He'd been unconscious and so very unhelpful, though to be fair no more unhelpful then when he'd been an energetic little boy.

Putting him on her bed she'd rolled him on his left side, right leg crooked forwards, right arm sticking out over the side of the bed. This way he was able to breathe easier though there was still a lot of blood in his lungs and every breath was a wheeze.

Merlin was pale and beneath his skin Hunith could feel his pulse beating much too fast.

He hadn't woken up since she'd healed him and as he was unconscious due to blood loss he probably couldn't wake up until he had regained some of his strength. Hunith had spent most of that time trying every trick she knew, magical, medical and other, to get him to drink and eat.

Even with her limited amount of medical knowledge Hunith knew blood loss could kill a person even if they'd stopped bleeding. His rapid pulse and unconsciousness were evidence enough that he was still in danger…and she didn't know how to save him.

With the help of Milly, Will's mother and the only person prepared to help them, Hunith boiled milk and cows blood, making a rich mixture to spoon gradually into Merlin's slack mouth. Unconscious he couldn't eat, but if he didn't regain his strength he was going to die.

Objectively, Hunith considered using her own blood. It was a crude but old trick; she was healthy and knew her blood carried few, if any, diseases. She was also Merlin's mother, a relation in blood she couldn't help but feel would be beneficial.

However she decided not to. To regain his strength Merlin needed a lot of feeding and she did not want to weaken herself. Milly was helping but had sons and daughters of her own and wouldn't be able to sit with Merlin for the long hours that would be required if Hunith was indisposed.

So Hunith did her best, not knowing whether her efforts were helping or if there was some easy treatment she didn't know of that would save him.

Not knowing if her love would be enough to stop her ignorance from killing him.

"Here," Milly said concernedly, handing Hunith a bucket.

Hunith sat by Merlin's bed, wiping his face with a cloth, watching him slip away.

"Is it from…?"

"Yes."

A cow had just given birth and Hunith had paid the farmer with almost all of the money she had for the cow's first milk. Everyone knew there was a difference between the milk a cow gave just after calving as calves that went without it sometimes died even if they had another cow to drink from. Hunith, hoping desperately that whatever was in that new milk could save Merlin, had paid for the calf and the milk it would've drunk. Though the calf would almost certainly weaken and die the farmer gave Hunith a discount to let him keep it and try to raise it without that vital first-milk. Hunith agreed to this, having to care for Merlin and not having time to care for a newborn calf nor the heart to kill it.

Merlin had been going steadily for a the past few days. He hadn't seemed to get better but as he hadn't gotten worse Hunith was hopeful.

However that afternoon when she'd been sitting by his bed, crafting a desperate letter to Gaius she didn't know how to get to him, when Merlin's eyes had suddenly shone gold beneath their lids and his face had twitched all over.

"No! Merlin, don't cast magic! You're not strong enough!" Hunith had cried, hoping her voice would cut through his unconsciousness and stop him.

The gold died down but continued to sputter sporadically, as if it were trying to work but was unable to. Then, a few hours after the first flare, they'd blazed again and the slight colour in Merlin's face had drained away, every muscle going limp.

Now she trickled the new milk into his mouth. She hadn't boiled it as she didn't know if boiling it would make it less nutritious, but as Milly backed out of the room Hunith closed her eyes and concentrated hard on the bowl. Her mind flashed blazing white again and the milk stirred as if a wind had blown over it. Hoping that whatever she'd done had killed any diseases or dangers in it, she fed it to her son.

But still Merlin slipped away. It seemed he'd been clinging to life but that short use of magic had irreversibly weakened him, had pushed him down a slope of which there was no climbing back up.

"Please Merlin," Hunith said; stroking his clammy forehead, looking at his closed eyes that twitched with bad dreams, "you need to hold on, you need to fight."

Suddenly there was a great pounding in the air that made Hunith's ear drums ache and the house quaked around her. She heard people screaming, cows braying in alarm, dog's fleeing past the house shrieking.

Half standing Hunith leaned over Merlin and looked up. The thin light that filtered through the thatched roof had suddenly vanished as though a great cloud had landed on the house.

"I have what he needs," said a huge cavernous voice, filled with echoes and dark places, and before the sentence had died the roof of Hunith's home was torn violently away.


	12. Chapter 12: Changes

**Hello everyone,**

**Thanks for all of the well wishes on my computer! I'm sorry to say they did not magically heal my computer…it died…it died to death.**

**So now I have a new computer! It's a laptop and it's big, that's all I know. I've never really been a tech-head (evidently, as I am fairly sure IT people don't call themselves 'tech-heads.') Once again you almost didn't get a chapter. Searching for the story on my harddrive I found an old version and thought I'd lost, in the confusion, all of my progress. I nearly had a heart attack. However I was able to find this version, so…you know…yay!**

**It's been **_**stinking **_**hot in Aus. **_**Stinking**_**. The other day the train I was catching stopped halfway home because the tracks had buckled. **

**Seriously, this weather is incentive enough to stop global warming. Unless you are a lizard or a snake or some other exotherm you would not like this weather.**

**Igh.**

**It's night-time now, though I'm still sitting here in a shirt and shorts with a bottle of water nearby.**

**Anyway, 'nother chapter, hope you like!**

**(Also, I gotta say I really enjoyed ****Localicious's comment**** '****IT'S THE DRAGON ISN'T IT.' Just…the wild, caps locking of excitement for Kilgarrah really amused me for some reason.)**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Changes.**

**::Arthur::**

Arthur sat with his hands clasped before him. It was the day after his father's death and he was in the Vault of King's, which was a glorified name for the Kings graveyard. It was located far below Camelot, surrounded by twisting tunnels that even Arthur, who'd explored the castle his entire life, needed a map to navigate. The ceremonial funeral had happened beneath the sun; people had thrown flowers and eloquent speeches had been made, but this was the real funeral.

This was the beginning of Uther's eternal sleep in the cold stone of Camelot.

Arthur was alone down here, the officials and knights who had laid the body to rest long since gone, desiring light and warmth. Alone but for the dead, that was. Arthur felt no need for light or warmth, not with this clammy grief inside him.

He felt like a cave creature, he felt like hiding.

Arthur sat as still as the stone around him, feeling nothing, numbed by emotional whiplash. He had nothing left to give, he was sorry, father, but his tears had been spent on another. Grief would come, and guilt for not feeling it sooner, that Arthur knew. But for now he just sat beside the stone coffin holding his father with the bizarre feeling that if he opened it, despite never having left it since Uther had been put inside, the coffin would be empty.

Technically Arthur was already king, technically he had been king since Uther had fallen, but there was still the coronation which would make him officially king. His advisors, who had been Uther's advisors the day before, had suddenly become his. Arthur was less then thrilled with this particular protocol.

As he had known they would, as soon as Arthur emerged, tousle haired and red eyed from Uther's graveside the advisors bombarded him with questions and suggestions and demands, mostly in regards to the coronation.

"Tomorrow," Arthur said and started to walk off.

"But sire it has to be today, so that you are registered as the official…"

"I said, tomorrow," Arthur turned on them now and the babble of advisors was stricken into silence

"But…sire…" said one very feeble sounding man.

Arthur glared at him fiercely and he appeared to swallow his tongue.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow is good. We'll have more time to invite the nobles. Did you want-"

They began babbling again just as quickly about the benefits of postponing the coronation as they had about its detriments.

"You," Arthur pointed at the advisor who had said the least.

The round faced man looked up from the list he had been reading.

"Bring all of the documents regarding Camelot's laws regarding magic and all of the paperwork involved in changing them to my fa…" Arthur swallowed, "…to my study."

Bowing the man tottered off without a word.

One again Arthur turned and walked away from his advisors.

* * *

Hours later and Arthur felt, for the first time in days, that he had done something worth doing. He leant back from his father's table, his table, with a groan, rubbing his face. Before him sat his fat advisor, Steven, as well as another man who dealt with relations between the crown and the council of law, and Geoffrey, who was the closest Arthur had to an advisor about magic.

Uther had long since forced through laws giving the crown complete power when it came to magic policy. Arthur intended to change that as well to defend against future kings, but for now he was taking advantage of it. Every time he signed his name on a hastily scribble document reversing all his father had worked for he felt the beginnings of betrayal.

He still felt numb over his father's death, but he took advantage of this numbness. He might not have the strength or courage to defy his father's memory later, so he was doing it now.

"This all looks in order," Steven was saying, cross-checking the policies written on separate sheets. Arthur liked the man. Usually he took an instant dislike to bigger people, seeing them as weak and lazy for letting themselves stray from the prince's standard of fitness, but again his prejudices were crumbling away. Steven had a sharp mind; even though he hadn't known much about changing policy he read quickly and paid attention to small details, so within an hour he was advising Arthur about what and what not to do. Without him Arthur would've written himself into many a technicality and problem.

Arthur could've beaten Steven with his hands tied behind his back, and that wasn't even an exaggeration. But Arthur couldn't have changed the laws on magic without him, Arthur couldn't have written justice into the law without him, and because of that Steven was invaluable.

"And these pardons, sire," Steven now picked up another sheet, still balancing the others in his right hand, "should be sent to the castle guard straight away. King Uther never made them official through the council of law so there is no official record to undo."

"Okay," Arthur ruffled his hair, which felt like it had wilted from being inside too long, "take those to…"

But Steven was already half way to the door, obviously knowing where the documents had to go much better than Arthur.

"Thank you Steven," Arthur said instead of further orders.

"Sire?" said Geoffrey, who had been sitting staring at an open book without reading it for some time. It was the first time Arthur had ever seen Geoffrey not read ever written word within a ten meter radius of himself and if Arthur weren't so tired he may have worried that Geoffrey was having a stroke of some variation.

"Yes?"

"I know you didn't want to involve him but I must _insist _on Gaius reading over these documents before you submit them. He is much more knowledgeable on this subject then I am. He's written books about it. Unpublished, of course, but he allowed be to read over his drafts to double check the spelling and punctuation. This was, of course, before King Uther banned such doings, but the drafts were…"

"I know, I know," Arthur sighed, heading Geoffrey off.

Given an uncomplaining audience Geoffrey would launch into a speech about books that could take hours to escape from.

"I read much about the subject under Uther's instruction, but Gaius has the practical knowledge that every scientist and professor must take into…"

"I know, Geoffrey," Arthur put his head on the desk, making the law advisor quickly pull some documents off it so he didn't face-plant into a sheet of wet ink.

"It would be most inadvisable to make such a drastic change to legislation without consulting a secondary source. And as you are…"

"Okay, yes, fine!" Arthur said from the desk.

"Thank you sire, I will return shortly."

Before Arthur could change his mind Geoffrey had hobbled from the room. Geoffrey trusted Gaius a lot more then he trusted Arthur, Arthur supposed this was because his father had been a burner of books and Gaius had been a writer of them. The man was prejudiced.

The law advisor, whose name Arthur still could not remember, shuffled uncomfortably.

"Would you like me to remain here, sire, or…"

"Not really," Arthur said, too weary to be polite.

"…I could go and advise the council of law that a change in policy is about to…"

"Yes, yes," Arthur waved a hand without looking up, "whatever. I appreciate all you've done but…just…for the love of Camelot, go away."

The advisor sniffed, slightly insulted, and left the room without another word. Arthur felt guilt, _guilt_, over insulting his advisor, when for his father's death he felt nothing.

He sat up. It wouldn't do for Gaius to come in and see the king seemingly passed out over a bunch of documents. Arthur supposed Gwen would come as well, though he had not asked for her. She and Gaius had become fast friends not just after Merlin's death but since Merlin's reveal. They could've fought crime together if they weren't so busy fighting the crown. Only now that Arthur thought about it, 'crime' and 'crown' were not mutually exclusive.

He sighed; he wasn't sure how he felt about Gwen. He felt confused, hurt, guilty and ashamed, amongst other things, whenever he thought about her.

But she saved you; a voice in his head would say whenever he thought these things. She could've let you die, but she saved you. She could've stood aside like Gaius had stood aside and left and let Mordred murder his father.

That was another one of the numerous reasons Arthur hadn't wanted to call Gaius or Gwen. He knew now what Gaius had done. Gwen had been shielded magically, though he wasn't sure how, so Gaius had probably been shielded also. Gaius could've stood by his father and protected him, but he hadn't. It wasn't hard to see why; grief and anger…revenge.

Arthur couldn't bring himself to hate Gaius but he didn't understand him well enough to forgive him either. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. Forgiving Gaius would, he expected, feel like the betrayal of his father.

Arthur felt like everything he did, every way he turned, was a betrayal of his father…

Even breathing, walking, talking…why should he have lived and his father had died?

Was this cosmic justice or just a cosmic joke? Was there even a reason, or was everybody so insignificant that life and death didn't even _matter?_

Arthur was still trying to figure out how he felt Gaius and Gwen arrived.

"You summoned us," Gaius said angrily as he entered the room, "again."

"I'm sorry," Arthur frowned at the door which Geoffrey had closed from the outside, leaving Arthur alone with Gaius and Gwen, "it was meant to be a request…"

Arthur realized he didn't remember specifying that…ah well, too late now.

"What for, Arthur?" Gaius crossed his arms.

Gwen stood slightly behind him; letting the shadows of the room half hide her. Forcing himself not to look at her Arthur replied,

"I know this won't…reverse…anything I've done…or even help, I don't know…but I've issued blanket pardons for both of you," he allowed himself one nod in Gwen's direction, "and I need you to read over these documents on legalising magic before I make them official policy."

Gaius didn't move but his sudden lack of tension and lack of a retort told Arthur he'd surprised the old man.

"You're…changing the law?" Gaius said, arms unfolding themselves.

Arthur looked down at his desk and the result of hours of work strewn across it like debris.

"I cannot take back what I did to Merlin," Arthur said, gripping the air with both hands, tendons standing out in cords.

"If I could, I would, but I can't. So I'm making sure it never happens to anybody else."

Arthur lowered his hands and silence fell across the room. Arthur waited for it to pass, waited for Gaius to say something, say 'it's not good enough' or 'it's too late,' but he didn't. It took a few long moments, but finally Gaius moved forwards, pulled out a chair and sat down. Arthur blinked.

"What do you want me to read?" Gaius asked in a strangely constricted voice.

"Everything," Arthur gestured to the whole table, "I want you to double check everything."

Without another word Gaius lifted the nearest sheet and began to read.

It would take a while. Uther's laws had fit onto a few sheets; they could've fit onto one. His laws consisted almost solely of 'magic is against the law, all sorcerers will be executed,' with no actual substance or specifics. Arthur (and Steven and Geoffrey and the Other Guy) had been very specific, and fleshed out the laws and the wording, had been thorough. They had, therefore, taken up much, much more paper then Uther had.

Arthur stood up to stretch and cracked his back loudly. Then, before he could stop himself, he walked around the desk to where Gwen still stood near the bookshelf on the side wall.

"Hello," he said softly.

She looked at him.

"I know nothing I can do will prove it but…I am…sorry…for everything."

Gwen still said nothing.

"I'd take it all back if I could. I can't believe how _stupid _I was," for a moment Arthur's tone got the better of him and he spat the end of the sentence with fury and hatred all directed at himself.

Gwen straightened up.

"I just…" Arthur stopped, forcing back the clogging feeling in his throat and the prickling sensation behind his eyes.

He slumped against the shelf and sighed; he was doing a lot of that lately.

"Why did you save me?" He asked hopelessly.

(Why did you have to save me?)

Living was so _hard. _

Gwen looked at him. After a moment of scrutinizing his face she said,

"I don't know."

Arthur was unsurprised by the tired twist in his throat. He looked away from Gwen.

"Yeah," Arthur said, "I don't know either."

There was another pause.

"I was undecided, and indecision is not a good enough reason to let somebody die."

Ouch, that had hurt.

"But…I'm not sure that it was a mistake…"

Arthur looked up. Gwen was frowning, but in a thoughtful way.

There was no affection in her eyes...but there was no regret either.

* * *

When the coronation did take place it was exactly as he had imagined, but also entirely different. There were speeches and cheers and knights and nobles. There were banners and trumpets and magnificent horses. But there was no elderly father retiring and passing his crown to Arthur and no Merlin grinning at his side. None of the Round Table knights came, nor did Gaius even though he knew Arthur was announcing the change of law at the end of the ceremony. At one stage Arthur looked up and saw Gwen watching from a window in one of the corridors running around the square, that was the best moment of what was, to be honest, a dismal ceremony.

Mostly he stood there staring around like it was all some baffling foreign custom, Geoffrey even needed to prompt him to say his oaths.

He'd jumped, startled, when the crown had been placed on his head, the ghost of his father's rule settling on him with it. The crown was heavy and unfamiliar, his father had never let him try it on, not even in private.

Arthur fought the urge to steady it with his hands, for that would be un-kingly.

"The King is dead, long live the King!" cried out a herald, just like the man had called out after Uther's death.

The crowd cheered for a long time. At least complete strangers still liked him, Arthur thought as he forced a smile onto his face for the crowd. He let them yell themselves into silence and stood forwards.

"I thank you, people of Camelot, for welcoming me and accepting me as your King."

More cheers.

His father would've never thanked people for accepting him, it would never have crossed his mind that they might not, that the people had any choice in the matter.

"I wish to lead Camelot into a prosperous future," Arthur began but was interrupted by even more cheers. Honestly, was that their only possible response to him saying anything?

"My first royal decree that will work towards this future," Arthur raised his hands; this was it, "is to lift the ban on magic."

Well, now he knew the people of Camelot had more than one response to him saying anything. They had cheers but they also had complete and utter silence.

"I understand this will come as a shock to many of you, and many may question my wisdom in doing this."

Again, his father would never have even considered saying truths such as these, but if Arthur was going to be one thing it was going to be _honest._

_He was done lying. _

"This decision has not come lightly, nor has it been unconsulted. It was magic that killed my father," Arthur let the crowd gasp and mutter to themselves before continuing, "but it was magic that saved me. The laws on magic have been prejudiced for far too long."

Betrayal was bitter on his tongue but a small, clear voice in his head told him that he was just telling the truth. If the truth did not reflect well on Uther as it had been a truth of his of making it was not Arthur who had betrayed him.

Uther had betrayed himself.

"Magic may not be used to break the civil or criminal laws of Camelot. If crimes are committed with magic they will be punished, but magic is no longer a crime in itself. The peaceful practise of sorcery is now legal. Also, anybody persecuted for the use of magic will be able to seek protection under the Crown. There will be no more lynching's of sorcerers or sorceresses, and any person or peoples found to be practising prejudiced behaviour against those with or using magic will be punished for violating another citizens rights."

The crowd was staring at him, some in awe, some alarmed like they suspected their new King was quite mad. Arthur continued.

"I do not expect social opinion to change overnight with the law but as law must lead violations will not be tolerated. It will be difficult and many may disagree, but the Crown will not tolerate violence. Magic has protected Camelot much more, for far longer, then any of you know, and only by accepting and embracing magic that Camelot may become all that it is meant to be."

Arthur ended solidly. Emboldened by his confidence the crowd began to cheer. Not the whole crowd cheered and many who did were quieter and more hesitant than before, but it was a start.

However, barely had the cheering started when suddenly it changed. It started with one person screaming…then they were all screaming and running. A great shadow fell across the courtyard and Arthur looked up, the pounding in the air reverberating in his bones and the crown falling from his head in what he supposed was some highly symbolic way.

He didn't have time to worry about crown symbolism, though, as there was a small matter he had to deal with in the shape of the Great Dragon, which was descending from the sky into the courtyard.

It landed with a _thud _that made the ground shudder, curling in its tail tight so it could fit with an expression of distaste on its face.

Arthur hadn't known dragons could have expressions, let alone formulate emotions such as distaste.

He hadn't run. Several thoughts had run through his head as to why he shouldn't run, it was unkingly and pointless being the main ones, but that wasn't what kept him standing there staring boldly upwards. What kept him in place was his courage. For all of the fear of his father, the complicated, confusing fear that blended so closely with love he hadn't seen it for what it was, Arthur was still a brave man. If a dragon was landing on his castle, which it evidently was, then he was going to do something about it.

But what exactly does one say to a massive dragon that is looking quite unabashed at having just crashed one's coronation?

"I thought you were dead," Arthur yelled, ripping the ceremonial cloak from his shoulders so he had greater freedom of movement, not that it would help. It probably wasn't the most tactful thing he had ever said…or yelled.

"Death is an alternate path, and of paths I have taken many. All roads lead to it, but none from it, and evidently I am on another road," the dragon said, as if this were obvious.

Arthur gaped at it.

"Um…" He said, kings weren't supposed to say _um_, "you're in my courtyard."

Way to go Arthur, that'll show him.

"My path evidently lead me here as here I evidently am."

What?

"I passed the road of another who has not completed their journey, yet I have reason to believe it was the late King Uther who almost made the paths unite."

Huh?

"How did you know my father is dead?" Arthur yelled back, having no idea where this conversation was going or, indeed, if he should try and steer it.

"A ripple of loss and freedom went through the land and a great weight left my mind. But first a second weight was lifted and I could not come until I was free both physically and spiritually."

What?

Was this dragon having some existential crisis? Arthur didn't even know how to deal with a person having an existential crisis, let alone a giant magical lizard.

And did it have to have it _here? _

_Now?_

"Are you here to kill me?" Arthur asked, deciding that if the dragon was going to speak in excessive loops and riddles he would speak in excessive bluntness.

"Kill you? Does one raze the city that has made by and been the result of their travels?"

"Um…No?" Arthur said hopefully.

The dragon seemed to comprehend Arthur's confusion for the first time and lowered its head.

"I am not here to kill you, Arthur Pendragon King."

Arthur let out a breath of relief.

"No," the dragon continued, "I am here to be very, very angry with you, Arthur Pendragon King."

Arthur gulped.

There was the sound of shuffling footsteps behind him that, unlike the majority of people who had now fled, seemed like they were coming towards the king and the dragon. Arthur didn't know who it was and didn't want to turn away from the great golden beast to find out, but he still had his strong suspicions. The dragon itself looked up and over Arthur to the newcomers and if Arthur could read his expression correctly they were not at all to his liking.

"I go by many names, few of them in human tongue," the dragon said, looking back down at Arthur, "but one of which you may know or may now learn and call me is Kilgarrah the Great Dragon."

It sounded more like a title then a name but Arthur wasn't about to contest this with Kilgarrah, not when he'd only just started speaking in understandable sentences.

"The late King Uther betrayed me through a friend and imprisoned me beneath his home. Why he rested better with a demon beneath his bed is unclear to me. You imprisoned me beneath your home," Kilgarrah bared his teeth for a moment, "by leaving me there. But I might even forgive you, one day. That is not the matter of reckoning."

And now the dragon crouched forwards, bending his neck and bringing his awesome, fearsome head very close to Arthur. It took all Arthur's strength not to step back.

"It is not the fear of Uther that held me at bay, nor is it his death that made me return. I did not come all of this way on a whim. Indeed, we dragons know little of whims. No. I have come to ask you of your part in the attempted murder of Emrys."

Arthur's mind wrapped around itself and he felt it comprehending something that was yet to surface to conscious thought. He felt strangely queasy. Behind him came two gasps, the meaning of which was lost on Arthur for the moment.

"Who?" He asked, carefully keeping his hand from resting on the ceremonial sword at his waist.

"_What say you?_" the dragon demanded.

"I don't…" But hang on, that name did ring a bell, "isn't…wasn't Merlin 'Emrys?'"

"He goes by many names, two of which you have just spoken."

Arthur's brain was still going too slowly. The dragon had said something…something very, very important. He wanted to know about Arthur's part in Merlin's murder. But he had said…

"Did you just say 'attempted' murder?"

The words came out low on a shaky exhalation.

Arthur didn't know where he got the breath, he felt like a thunderbolt had just crashed through him from mind to foot.

"I did not come here to bandy repetitions," the dragon growled impatiently, "and my patience is waning. I say for the last time, what say you on your part in the attempted murder of Merlin Emrys?"

Arthur felt like he was filled with a sudden, searing light.

"Attempted…dragon, are you saying he _isn't dead_?"

Forgetting his fear Arthur stood forwards. Electricity jumping from nerve to vein.

"I am not 'dragon,' I am Kilgarrah the Great Dragon. But to your question no, the warlock lives."

Arthur felt like a wave was crashing over his mind, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe.

The truth exploded through him like a fracturing star, roaring through the vacuum of space.

Like a stopped heart lunging back to life, with lungs roaring for air again.

Like hope, when all hope had failed.

Merlin was _alive._

Merlin was _alive._

Merlin was _alive._

Arthur staggered backwards and almost sank to his knees in shock. He regained his balance as Gaius, who was indeed one of the people who had approached, moved passed Arthur.

"He's alive? He is alive then?" He demanded, looking up at the dragon.

The dragon looked at him for a long moment, dislike on his face, but that dislike did not stop him from saying,

"Yes."

Behind Arthur came a squeal and a moment later Gwen rushed passed, for she had been the second set of footsteps. Apparently she couldn't the dragon, not when he had brought such brilliant news, because she hugged Gaius quite unabashedly before the golden beast.

To Arthur's surprise she turned and curtsied to Kilgarrah and spoke in a slightly breathless tone,

"If you don't mind me asking, Mr Sir Dragon Sir, where is he?"

At the sound of Gwen's attempt at a respectful title Kilgarrah smiled.

"Emrys is with his mother in a small town of which I do not know the name."

"Ealdor," Gwen said with a tone so thoughtful it sounded intense, "just like we thought…"

"I didn't think any healer there had the power," Gaius said in a much more distracted tone.

"Hunith almost did not," Kilgarrah said from above them, regaining the attention of the three humans again. "Emrys was very weak when I arrived, very nearly spent. According to his mother he had cast magic a few days past, though with no consequences. Empty spells, perhaps due to his weakness…"

"No," Gaius interrupted, "that must've been when Mordred came…Gwen, your shield, it must've drained from him."

"I didn't know," Gwen gasped, "I didn't know it would weaken him! I thought you said…residual magic, he wouldn't commit magic he didn't have to spare!"

Arthur frowned, something wasn't…

"Either way," Kilgarrah said with impatience at the repeated disruptions, "the warlock was nearing what you call 'death' when I arrived. He was magically spent, physically spent, and would have surely died if he had not drunk of my veins."

Arthur looked away from Gwen.

"He drank your blood?" He couldn't help sounding slightly disgusted.

Kilgarrah noted the tone and loomed over him once more.

"Speak not with scorn Pendragon, for you come from a long line of dragon heart eaters. Dragons have always been the victims of the violent; we who would rather ride the sky were often weary when we landed amongst humans, of whom used to be comrades. Humans took advantage of our trust; they ate our hearts and gained two things: long life and the lack of will to live it. Humans who drank the slain dragons blood fared little better, they gained great strength and madness."

"Madness?" Arthur said, alarmed.

He was surprised Gaius did not also seem alarmed that the news of Merlin alive came with the news that the efforts to save him had driven him mad.

"From a beast naturally dead comes decay and new life. From a murdered beast comes disease and violence. From a slain dragon, one of the few great magical beings, comes both great riches and the crippling of the ability to use them. However riches can, in part, be given. I gave Emrys my blood, so he caught no madness from me. My blood restored him, my magic restored him, the warlock shall live."

Gwen and Gaius stepped together, slinging arms around each other like knights who had survived a great battle and were for the first time admiring their victory.

"If the Emrys who returns is different, it is not I who has changed him, but, I expect, you," Kilgarrah said to Arthur.

"Which leads us into this talk of what you did to the sorcerer, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

Arthur looked away.

He didn't want to answer.

**::Merlin::**

Far away from where he was being discussed lay the warlock in question.

He was still half asleep, or four-fifths asleep more like, so not much of what he was thinking made any sense.

Merlin could feel a scratchy blanket lying on top of him. He was still too sleepy to feel uncomfortable on the bed but his mind did register its irregular lumps. There was a patchy breeze on his face and quite a lot of rustling coming from above him.

Slowly waking up, he felt the mattress with his fingers. This thing really did need restuffing. Merlin wriggled his toes. They felt very stiff and creaked like the joints of the old man he had once spelled himself to be.

Why did he feel so weak?

The more he awoke the heavier the feeling of nausea settle in his stomach. He was tempted to try and settle back down into the velvety folds of sleep, but some odd sense told him he'd woken and fallen asleep a few times before now and that now was the time to wake up. He was curious anyway, his mind was strangely blank.

Why was that?

Merlin forced open his eyes; they felt very gummy.

Had he been ill?

Did conjunctivitis usually make one pass out, lose their memory and ache all over?

The roof was moving, how very odd. It was rustling and jumping a little. By its patchy, thin appearance Merlin didn't think it made much of a roof.

Where was he?

Why was his brain moving through molasses to formulate each thought?

Bending creaky elbows Merlin braced his hands on the bed and tried to push himself up. Howeveras soon as his neck strained to lift his head a sharp pain burnt across his throat and he fell back down, gasping in a thin breath.

What in Avalon was that?

It felt like his head was about to fall off. The pain was still burning as if muttering to itself, disturbed. Merlin raised one hand to his throat but it was swaddled in cloth.

What the…?

It was much bigger than the bandage he'd had when Arthur had nicked his neck with his sword and these were no bandages to keep dirt from the wound…these were bandages of the holding-him-together kind.

Why did he need holding together?

Had he fallen apart? He could taste blood in his mouth…his lungs felt thick…he was sore all over. What had _happened?_

"Where…?" He croaked and coughed. "Um…hello?"

"What?" came a startled voice from overhead.

The thatching that had been rustling was abruptly pulled away. Merlin blinked, blinded by the light of the sun and the clear blue sky.

"Merlin!" The voice yelled, "you're awake!"

It continued exclaiming excitedly as it scrambled off the roof and to the door. Unable to lift his head and, therefore, feeling intensely vulnerable, Merlin tried to roll his eyes to the door. It creaked open and he couldn't stop himself from trying to twist his neck to see. It burnt sharply and his vision flashed at the corners.

"Don't move your head, darling."

It was his mother, his dear old mother.

"Mother?" He croaked, coughing again to clear his throat, "where…? Why am I…"

He gave up but Hunith seemed to get the idea of what he wanted to ask.

"You're in Ealdor, darling," she said as she touched the bandages around his neck, "you've been very…sick…"

"Sick?"

He felt so weak it wasn't hard to believe. But why was his neck bandaged?

"Well, no, not sick. Injured."

Injured?

Now that did ring a bell.

He'd been injured…Arthur nicking his neck with his sword, no that was before it had happened, whatever 'it' was…

"Don't worry about it now, just worry about getting better," Hunith said, but her expression was worried.

Arthur had been there…Arthur had…

Some deep part of Merlin snarled; terribly, terribly hurt; coiling wounded inside of him. He feared to feel it, but even as he hesitated about remembering, the memories started to come seemingly of their own volition.

Arthur…coming to take Merlin to King Uther…

Arthur…telling Merlin to lower his magic…not meeting his eye when Merlin said 'I'm trusting you.'

Arthur…telling him to kneel…Glancing over Merlin's shoulder a second before _it _happened.

And then…it…

Merlin could taste _blood_.

(Inhale, feel it gurgling. Thick fluid in his noise, his throat, _viscous_, all over his hands, hands that couldn't hold himself together, couldn't reach for his magic, which had gone slippery, slippery as the floor that was covered in _his blood._)

Merlin felt sick with a horror so big it made his soul feel small and wretched. He remembered and remembered and remembered. He lunged out of bed, trying to get up, to stand, to flee. Nausea sloshed in his stomach and his vision went strangely dotty. Legs trembling and failing him, Merlin crashed to the floor.

"Merlin!" Hunith was there, trying to help him up and support his head, protect his throat from his own desperate movements.

Because it was fragile, his throat. Merlin had never thought about it before…how it was such a ridiculous thing for a body to have. Forget Achilles heel, throats were a human's weakness. Airway, arteries, spine, it was all there, in one neat package.

And what was it protected by, if not a person's wariness and self defense? Skin. Skin would never stop a sword…a _dagger._

Some detached part of Merlin's brain realised he was hyperventilating. His back was against the side of the bed and his hands were braced against the floor so hard his weak muscles trembled. Hunith was sitting back, hands raised but no longer touching him. Merlin didn't even remember pushing her away. His hand went to his throat again. He couldn't touch it for the bandages but he knew what was there.

Hunith was saying something soothing in a low voice. Not in a calming-a-spooked-horse-voice, even gentler then that, with love in every syllable. In his horror Merlin couldn't understand what she was saying, fear and pain eradicating language from his brain, but he understood the tone of her voice. He looked up; the ringing in his ears was receding.

"A man…" He said, remembering the face he'd seen as he scrabbled backwards in that room, the face holding the bloody knife.

"Cut my…cut me…" he rubbed his neck, resisting the urge to rip the bandages off.

"Arthur…stood by…led me there…and watched…"

Merlin could see Hunith's heart wrenching in empathy for him in her eyes. Empathy for this betrayal by he who Merlin loved so dearly, loved as a brother.

A brother who'd _betrayed_ him.

Odd, how he'd used the word so often, thinking he understood it.

But no word, no sentence, no language could describe this feeling.

Bowing his head and closing his eyes Merlin felt the tears slide down his face and Hunith moved forwards, somehow knowing he now wanted her to touch him, embrace him, cover him with love and hold his head up from the despair he was drowning in.

Her empathy allowed her to understand how he felt without him having to word it, to which Merlin was grateful.

He felt that if he tried to properly transcribe these feelings the bones in his hand would break.

If he tried to say what he was thinking the words would poison him on their way out.

If he tried to say what he was thinking the mere sound of the spoken word would kill him as surely as a knife through the ear would pierce his brain.


	13. Chapter 13: Threats and help

**Hello everyone.**

**A day late! My apologies, I literally have no excuse. Yesterday I had my Wednesday uni timetable and attended my Wednesday classes then I came home and planned for today, Thursday…yet the entire time I thought yesterday was Tuesday.  
**

**I take a moment to be publically blamed and shamed (though not maimed or…um…renamed.)**

…

**There we go.**

**Okay! So!**

**Lots of dialogue this chapter. I tried to make it more concise ****but I prioritize what I think characters would say and how a conversation would flow more than how short I can make it (with debatable success.)** Also, I just want the characters to have some head-space. I want it to feel like they have a chance to think. 

**Anyway, things to do, people to see!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Again, apologies for being late. **

* * *

**Chapter 13: Threats and help.**

**::Arthur::**

The sun was still fairly high in the sky but the dragon, Kilgarrah, was blocking it. Arthur supposed glumly that this was a good thing as the servants were too terrified to bring over a pavilion to stop their king getting sunburnt. He couldn't really blame them when even his knights were too terrified to come over and make sure the dragon didn't eat him alive. Though of course Arthur knew it wouldn't eat him (well, he hoped it wouldn't. He was trying to think positive; the thing could probably smell fear.)

It had been a rather uncomfortable chat, threat of being eaten notwithstanding. Arthur, in an effort to delay his confession, had made some vague noises about going to get some chairs, but the dragon had said 'No matter' and swept his tail around for them to sit on. Arthur didn't know much about dragons but he was fairly certain this was unusual behaviour. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Kilgarrah knew Arthur didn't want to tell him what he had to tell him and that he might use the chair excuse to escape.

He'd looked up into its eyes, well, eye, as its head was side on to them, and seen the intensity not just in the huge depths, black as pitch, but in the lines of its brow and the crinkles in the skin around the beast's eye. Looking back into that huge gaze Arthur couldn't help remembering what Merlin had said, that the beast had once tried to kill Hunith. Despite his guilt, which felt confused and, if anything worse, now that he knew Merlin was alive (what a brilliant word,) Arthur glared at this dragon who had tried to hurt his friend's mother. The dragon's brow curved upwards and Arthur wondered if it was wondering about what he was thinking.

For a moment Arthur's mind grappled with existential concepts, then he got a headache.

It took a while but the dragon learned everything. Arthur had sat down on its tail a small ways from Gaius and Gwen and he had told Kilgarrah the story, the true story, of everything that had happened. His father's deception, his own willingness to be deceived, willingness to jeopardize Merlin if it meant gaining his father's favour, Merlin defeating Mordred, Merlin defeating Mordred again, Mordred…killing his father.

Gwen had taken over then for Arthur could not speak of it. The knowledge that Merlin lived had stopped his guilt from crowding his grief away from the memory of his father, but now it paralysed him.

Arthur had spoken again once he had recovered of changing the laws in Camelot, of changing the laws in his heart.

* * *

Now he stood, thinking he'd rather take the dragon's judgement on his feet.

"You have dealt Albion a needless wound, even as you brought her to life," Kilgarrah said sadly.

"I don't…" Arthur felt it would be impolite to say he didn't know who 'Albion' was, for surely it wasn't another name for Merlin? As wrong as Arthur had been about him he was confident that Merlin was just that…a _him_.

"The broken sword can injure worse, for the blade can rust and the wound can become infected and spread beyond injury. A young blade like you should know better. A king should know better than to turn his rule into a weapon."

Arthur assumed the 'broken sword' was his father. The dragon's head swooped in closer and Arthur could see teeth the size of daggers every time the dragon opened his mouth.

"You were unwise, grievously unwise; all I worked for may have been negated by your lack of forgiveness."

Arthur bristled slightly at the dragon's 'I.' He was no chess piece for the dragon to use. However he was in the middle of being berated and thought it unwise to interrupt.

"Though the wheel is turning it could reverse on itself, perhaps," Kilgarrah sounded like he was talking to himself but his gaze had drifted thoughtfully onto Arthur. "It all depends on your continued survival. You are the One True King of Camelot, you will make her as she is to be. As she was always meant to be."

Arthur felt a hot knot of emotions, many of them anger, which roiled for a moment before slumping down. Resignedly he asked,

"So I was your plan then?"

"Yes?"

"And Merlin was just a tool to you?" Arthur felt hypocritical but couldn't stop a flare of resentment sounding in his voice.

"Emrys was never _just _a tool. Was he a tool? Yes. But was he of his own wielding?" Kilgarrah asked in a rhetorical tone.

Arthur didn't know what the supposedly obvious answer was.

"Was he?" Arthur asked after a moment.

Kilgarrah looked surprised.

"Of course. Everyone shapes themselves."

"Sir Dragon?" Gwen said, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours. She was standing closer to Kilgarrah so he had to bend his neck almost double in order to see her.

"You may call me Kilgarrah, Guinevere."

Gwen looked startled.

"You know my name?" She said in an apprehensive tone.

"You identity is printed onto the halls of the castle," Kilgarrah said.

"Is it?" Gwen said, sounding surprised.

"And the stars," Kilgarrah added, seemingly as an afterthought.

Gwen looked like she didn't know how to feel about this starting celestial statement.

"You said you saw Merlin?" She said after a moment of gathering her thoughts.

Kilgarrah nodded his head once, very regally.

"How was he?"

Kilgarrah looked not at Gwen but at Arthur.

"He was dying."

The courtyard was silent; Arthur dropped his gaze.

"Emrys was dying for his throat had been cut and he had bled near to death. He was very weak and he could not wake, he had not the strength."

Kilgarrah's tail swept back behind him and Gwen, no longer between it and the dragon's body, raced to Gaius, who had fallen over at the movement.

"He would have died if not for my blood. You asked me, Arthur Pendragon, if Emrys was just a tool to me. I answer he was not. He was both a means to an end and an end in himself. He was the last dragonlord, the only human I could claim to be a friend. Your father butchered the dragons and you took Emrys to him, knowing what would happen. You tread a dangerous line, King, thanks to your father. Your father taught his enemy's undistinguishing ruthlessness, enemy's the just would call allies, or at least who would call the just their sympathizers at least. You then allowed your father to kill not only your friend but the only person able and willing to protect him."

To Arthur that sentence came like a blow but he forced himself to keep looking into the dragon's cold eye.

"Without magical protection your rule will be very short and very violent," Kilgarrah said matter-of-factly, "and you will die by assassin as surely as the realms will be written with blood. Without Emrys, you cannot be king. You need him."

"Merlin might not want come back," Gwen said from one side.

Her voice wasn't hesitant like before, it was sharp and angry; when Arthur looked across at her he saw that she had stepped towards the dragon.

"And it would be wrong of you to force him to."

Kilgarrah looked surprised; he sat up from his hunch into an almost catlike posture.

"I do not intend to _force _Emrys. I could not force Emrys. He is a dragonlord, he has dragon magic. I can sense it; it's how I knew something had happened. And as a dragonlord his word is law to me."

"Emotional blackmail is force to Merlin! You just said he was dying and you already want him to come back as some sort of magical security guard. Can't you wait until he's...oh I don't know…_not dying_?" Gwen took another step forwards and inexplicably Arthur was struck by what a powerful queen she would've been.

(Would've been…did he really think it was too late?)

(Yes. Yes he did.)

"He _was _dying, he _is not_ dying," Kilgarrah said as though this clarified everything.

"That doesn't make it okay! He might not _want _to! And he shouldn't have to. Not after he…what happened…not after what happened," Gwen's hands had balled into fists.

With an irritated look and a condescending tilt to his head Kilgarrah began, "Well if the One True King's reign is going to…"

But Gwen interrupted so forcefully he fell silent.

"If you care so much about Arthur's reign _you _stay here and protect it."

Kilgarrah's face pinched. Gwen's anger transformed, she looked at him shrewdly.

"You could, couldn't you?"

It wasn't a question.

Kilgarrah lifted his head.

"A prisoner of memories is not of a cell."

Arthur assumed he was alluding to his long imprisonment beneath the castle.

"If you're so keen that Camelot be protected by magic _do it yourself_," Gwen said.

"Dragons are sentinels, the watchers. Keepers of wisdom whom may not inter-"

Gwen made a dismissive 'pssssh' and Arthur had to resist the urge to laugh at Kilgarrah's indignant silence.

"You wanting to keep your distance isn't reason enough to force Merlin to do something he doesn't want to do. If you push him back here too quickly who's to say he will stay? Who's to say he won't start resenting Camelot…and _you._ Wouldn't it be better to let him make his own choices?"

Kilgarrah took a moment, Arthur got the impression that the dragon wished he had been the one who had suggested staying.

With a wince of pride Kilgarrah said,

"I will stay…for now."

"Wait…so _you're_ going to _protect _the castle?" Arthur had mixed feelings like this; mixed between 'no' and 'no way.'

"For now," Kilgarrah repeated more firmly.

"But you _can_?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you come before?"

Now Gwen and Gaius, who had been determinedly watching Kilgarrah the entire time, looked around at the sound of Arthur's voice; it was wound so tight he sounded like he was being strangled.

"At what time does 'before' apply?" Kilgarrah asked.

"You said you sensed Merlin's magic. You would've heard it leave Camelot. Why didn't you come and protect it then? Why didn't you stop-"

"Mordred?" Kilgarrah interrupted.

Arthur felt suddenly light headed.

"How did you-"

"The reason I didn't come was Mordred."

"Why?" Arthur had a feeling that there was nothing Kilgarrah was likely to say that wouldn't make him feel worse, but he had to ask.

"I wanted Mordred to murder your father," Kilgarrah announced calmly.

Gaius gave a small gasp; Gwen stared at Kilgarrah like he was a new species of fish and an ugly one at that. Arthur stared at Kilgarrah for so long his eyes stung and his vision blurred. He looked away and blinked; a tear fell from his eye. Striking it away he looked up again and spat,

"And you expect me to trust you enough to stay in Camelot?"

"I don't expect you to trust me but I do not see why you would not. My problem was with the late Uther Pendragon; now that he is gone I have no need of Mordred."

"No need of…you _meant _for Mordred to kill my father!" Arthur's hands trembled for a sword and stabbing.

"No more then you did," Kilgarrah said and Arthur saw a hint of honesty along with a hint of alien cruelty in the beast's eyes.

For some reason it only now struck Arthur that this dragon, whilst sentient, did not have a human mind.

Somehow Kilgarrah's refusal to save Uther was different to Gaius'. Arthur had put it together, from what Gaius had said Arthur could tell he had suspected that Merlin might still be alive. Though his choice had been based on a hopeless chance, Gaius had left to guard Merlin. With this in mind Arthur could _make _himself _not _hate Gaius.

But Kilgarrah…

He'd let Uther die because he'd wanted Uther to be dead.

It was very different.

"I don't want you near Camelot," Arthur said, voice shaking with fury.

"You cannot make me leave," Kilgarrah replied calmly.

"Is that a threat?" Arthur loosened the ceremonial sword in its scabbard.

"No, I'm here to protect you. Why must Pendragon's always bite the hand that guards them?" Kilgarrah asked no one in particular.

"I am asking you to please leave," Arthur said, voice trembling with anger.

"I will not leave you to die here for pride and hatreds sake," Kilgarrah said both firmly and slightly deriseivly.

"Though you might want to tell your people-folk that I am here under your orders. It will sound better then you cannot make me leave."

**::Merlin::**

Merlin lay in bed, awake and dreaming.

Hunith was back on the roof, fixing it from when Kilgarrah had ripped it apart to get to him and save his life early that morning.

His hand fisted convulsively on the bed cloth and he swallowed jaggedly.

His mother's magic had healed him on the inside, that lumpy feeling he got was mental not physical, but his skin would forevermore carry the mark of the assassin's blade. Hunith's magic had been focused on making him live, not making him look good, and there hadn't been enough of it for both. Even now after drinking Kilgarrah's blood and regaining his own magical strength there was no way to heal that scar. It had been formed by magic to save him and so no magic could remove it, not without removing half his throat.

As it would be there until the day he died Merlin had to _see _it.

Carefully, steadying his head with his hands, Merlin rolled to his side and sat up. Looking around he saw a metal platter and flicked his hand to call it to him. Apparently his magic was still occupied with regaining its strength because the platter merely jumped to balance precariously on the edge of the table.

Merlin hissed, thinking _don't fall, don't fall._ If the platter fell his mother would hear it and come running and stop him from doing what he was going to do.

The platter didn't fall.

Okay.

Pushing his feet beneath him Merlin stood with the grace of a newly born horse and wobbled a few steps. From days lying prone, standing up felt weird like it never had before. His vision went dotty and a piercing pain in his head made him stop and lean against the wall and it took him a long moment to recover himself. Pushing off it he shuffled a few steps to the table and sat heavily in the seat next to it.

Merlin breathed for a second, fighting down the wave of sickness that had risen to greet him.

After a moment he picked up the platter. It was quite dirty so he set to cleaning it with his sleeve. It was more difficult then he liked but he'd been doing it for years (for Arthur, _don't think about him_) so eventually he found his reflection. It was warped and not very good, but it was enough.

Merlin replaced the platter onto the table and reached for the bandage tying his neck together. It looped over his head as well, and he found the knot on top of his head like a bow (Arthur would've laughed, _please_ _Merlin, please_, _don't think about him_.)

The knot was tight; he picked at it but it wouldn't come undone. Merlin tried to trace it with his fingers, feeling the folds of the cloth to find the best bit to pull, but it was senseless.

(Senseless.)

(Violence.)

Merlin yanked at it. One of his nails bent back on itself and he gave a hiss of pain but didn't stop.

"Damn it," he snarled, a tear surprising him half way down his cheek.

He jerked his hands back, scrubbing the tear away before it could mean anything.

Sighing angrily to himself Merlin forced himself to pause and think.

His brain couldn't comprehend the bread knife on the table.

Reaching up he pulled the bandage forwards. It took some wriggling but he managed to pull it down over his face. He then wound the bandage off, losing himself for a few seconds in the mindless rhythm of up and over, up and over.

It fell away, he looked down.

The outside part of the bandage was white and the inside part was red, red, red.

He looked at it for a long moment then reached up with one hand tentatively. His fingers touched the hollow of his throat and slid upwards, there was a bit of rough stubble, that was normal, then there was…

Merlin froze, looking into the middle distance.

The scar…how could it be that big? It was stiff and Merlin could feel dried blood flaking off his hand. His hand followed it to the right, followed it all the way from his Adam's apple up to his ear…it was right up under his _ear_...right to his earlobe. Another tear ran down his face, then another, and another. His hand was shaking as it followed the thick skin to the left…all the way up to his other ear lobe.

The assassin had done a thorough job…

A _thorough job…_

His hand fell down but he caught it half way, shaking like in a seizure. Merlin looked around wildly, sadly, desperate. His hands came up, touching his face, checking for more marks, more scars.

He picked up the platter and looked.

Merlin could not find his face. He could only see the angry scar looped like a noose over his throat.

Blood ran down his throat- Merlin dropped the platter into his lap and clapped his hands to his neck, heart shrieking. His neck was quite dry.

He gripped his hair in sudden desperation, and then lowered his head with shaking despair.

Hunith found him an hour later, head still in is hands, bandage still in his lap.

By then Merlin had run out of tears.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur watched furiously, futilely, as the dragon lifted off to circle the castle. Choosing a choice spot for some sunbathing in the late afternoon Kilgarrah descended onto the roof and wall of the upper castle, draping himself half on, half off the stone like a giant, glittering cat.

Gaius had shuffled off to tell the castle guard that Kilgarrah was a 'friend' who was here to stay. He wouldn't be saying Kilgarrah was not to be harmed, rather he'd say that if they wished to hurt the dragon they should get their wills in order first, for any attack would be repelled with instant incineration.

This left just Arthur and Gwen in the courtyard. Arthur found it easier to stare into the sky then meet her gaze.

"It would be wise to accept his help," Gwen said.

Reluctantly Arthur looked at her.

"I don't seem to have much choice," he grimaced.

"You do. At the moment you are begrudging his help," Gwen's arms were crossed and she was frowning at him, but she was still here.

That had to count for something, didn't it?

"What difference would it make?"

"Well as you were just proclaiming a change in attitude to the people of Camelot, don't you think it would be hypocritical of you to not follow your own lead?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, very grudgingly.

"Also," Gwen said briskly, "if you accept his protection he may be more lenient with you, more willing to negotiate. As it is he's sitting there and nothing can move him, save…I don't know…another dragon. If you are willing to listen to _him _he may be willing to listen to _you_. You can't expect people to listen to you if you don't listen back…you can't expect people to forgive you if you don't forgive in return."

Gwwn paused but Arthur had no answer. After a moment she said,

"You don't like him because he's a symbol of magic…"

"I don't like him because he knowingly let my father die and then sat on my castle."

"Gaius let your father die and you still want him to forgive you."

Arthur looked at Gwen sharply, feeling exposed. He didn't deserve forgiveness from the old man, but he wanted it…oh how he wanted it. Though he didn't want it as much as he wanted Gwen's, which was like water, or…

His mind wouldn't let him say _that _name…

Whose forgiveness would be like air in his lungs.

He sighed and rubbed his face wearily; it had been a long day.

"That was different," he mumbled finally.

"Not really, both Gaius and Kilgariah," Arthur didn't have it in him to correct Gwen's pronunciation, "let your father die because he was too dangerous to live."

Arthur sighed and turned to walk back to the castle, the truth too painful to bear, let alone hear. To his surprise Gwen fell into step beside him with.

"And least Gaius showed a little…I don't know…regret."

"A little?" Gwen said, surprised. "He and the King were, sorry, he and the Late King were old friends, Arthur. He was distracted by grief for Merlin then excitement and hope for Merlin, but if you think he only felt a little regret you don't know Gaius at all."

Arthur, having grown up with Gaius acting more like a father then his father did, felt a little bruised by that.

"He's not a physician for nothing, Arthur," Gwen pointed out as they walked into the shadow of the castle, "Gaius would've wanted Uther to live, he just wanted Merlin to live more."

* * *

It took Arthur a few hours of building up his courage and a few hours of uncoiling his pride, but the moon had only just graced the sky with its presence by the time he got out to see the dragon again.

He had thought he would have to call out to Kilgarrah to gain his attention, but as soon as he stepped quietly outside the door leading onto the wall the massive beast turned his head, eyes glowing amber in the darkness.

"King Arthur," Kilgarrah said, voice rolling off into the darkness, "Pendragon King."

"Kilgarrah," Arthur acknowledged.

Kilgarrah watched him silently. When he blinked Arthur could hear the soft sound of his eyelids moving. Heat emanated from the beast though the wind was cold.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said after a moment of mastering his tongue.

The dragon watched him, neither accepting nor rejecting his apology, just…waiting.

Where were his words now when Arthur needed something to distract him from his protesting pride?

"…for not being grateful of your help…I'm sorry. I am grateful that you are protecting the castle…now," Arthur couldn't help but throw in the 'now.'

"For now," the dragon corrected, looking away from Arthur and to the stars.

They fell silent together.

"Was Merlin really alright when you left him?" Arthur asked in a small voice before what he was saying had registered.

"He will live," Kilgarrah asked.

Arthur nodded, but that wasn't really what he had mean, wasn't it?

"He is sleeping," Kilgarrah said suddenly.

"What?"

"At this moment in his mother's home in Ealdor, Emrys is asleep."

Arthur shivered. What an alien thought…it was strange, _knowing _Merlin was out there right now, asleep. For some reason that he was too small to understand the knowledge twisted his heart.

"My bond to Emrys is strong at the moment, as we share magic," Kilgarrah announced, "in time, as his magic is used and renewed the bond shall fade back to dragon and dragonlord, but for now I feel my magic with his, and through his magic I feel him."

Kilgarrah hummed the 'm' out until it was no longer part of a word but a long sigh into the night.

Arthur sighed with him, feeling like he'd been drained out of his feet, like all that left was a hollow body acting on vague memories of will. He had this strange urge to bear his soul to the dragon. Maybe he felt Kilgarrah was alien enough not to disregard his feelings, maybe he felt he was alien enough not to regard them at all…maybe he just wanted advice.

Maybe he wanted a father figure and this dragon was the closest he had.

Arthur felt suddenly traitorous to Uther and slumped against the stonework, a lump in his throat.

He _missed _his father…missed him so hard he thought he'd die for the pain of it. He shouldn't, his father had used him to hurt Merlin, to almost kill Merlin. He'd hated Merlin more then he'd loved Arthur and sometimes, sometimes, Arthur had gotten the strangest feeling that whilst his father did love him, his father had hated him more.

"Mordred will return," Kilgarrah said, as though he had sensed Arthur's thoughts were straying towards his father's murderer.

Arthur looked up at Kilgarrah.

"My magic is different to Merlin's, a different type. Dragon magic. His is dragon magic, human magic, world magic, all in one. My magic is powerful and old. I can stop Mordred from entering Camelot, but if he should get under my shield I will not be able to save you," Kilgarrah looked down at Arthur.

"I can weave magic, not spells. I have no finesse. If Mordred got into the castle I could kill him, but I'd probably kill everybody else within the castle with him."

"Brilliant," Arthur said, surprising himself in his misery with his own sarcasm.

"It would be better if he did not get into the castle," Kilgarrah said, seemingly as an afterthought.

"Probably," Arthur agreed scathingly, discovering that having an attitude was easier than having emotions.

He then thought about Mordred for a second and asked in a much less arrogant tone,

"He can't get beneath your shield though…can he?"

"Oh no," Kilgarrah said dismissively.

Arthur sighed with relief.

"Not without help," Kilgarrah added.

Arthur's stomach knotted.

"And could he get help?"

"He most certainly will," Kilgarrah said unconcernedly.

"From where?"

The dragon suddenly fixed his gaze on Arthur. Arthur didn't know dragons well enough to be able to tell their stern expression from their I'm-about-to-eat-you expression, so Kilgarrah's regard made him nervous despite the dragon's earlier promises of protection.

"Your sister."

"What? Morgana? I thought she'd gone mad?" Arthur asked, startled.

"A mad enemy is an enemy nonetheless, and she would make a powerful ally to Mordred. Particularly because alliance with Morgana equals to an alliance with the White Dragon."

"The White Dragon?" Arthur asked, still distracted by the thought of Morgana, mad, coming to overthrow the castle (when Merlin wasn't there to protect him- Arthur hated himself for thinking this.)

"The White Dragon whom Emrys calls Aithusa," Kilgarrah curled his lip, the hint of a snarl in his voice.

"Do you mean to say that there are more than one dragon?"

"I did mean to say it, yes. It wasn't an accidental combination of words that made a legible sentence. The odds against that are astronomical."

It took Arthur a long moment to realise Kilgarrah had just said a the dragon equivalent of a joke, long enough for Kilgarrah to say in a slightly irritated tone,

"You should laugh at my jokes Arthur, as I could bite your head off if you didn't."

Ah, allusions to physical violence, a humour Arthur could understand.

"Haha," Arthur said sarcastically, then back to the subject at hand, "so there are more dragons?"

"I know at least of the existence of the White Dragon. Beyond her I know not of any others."

"So…Mordred is going to have this Aathusa?" Arthur asked.

"Aithusa," Kilgarrah corrected delicately.

"Whatever."

"Mordred will seek Morgana's help, who will undoubtedly ally herself to him and Aithusa will help Morgana."

"So the attack most likely to come is the only one you can't defend us against?" Arthur snapped.

"Indeed," Kilgarrah said as he tucked his forelegs beneath himself.

"So then what's the point of you being here?" Arthur said in exasperation, forgetting he'd come up to the rooftop to make peace with Kilgarrah.

"I can try to delay the attack," Kilgarrah's eyes seemed to glow in the dark like deep gold stars.

"As a fledgling the White Dragon will feel both drawn to me and repulsed by me. She will instinctively wish to submit to me as I am her elder, and that is the dragons nature. Mordred will wait until he is sure she is able to fight me to attack. He knows I cannot stop all of them magically, but physically I could quite easily crush them if they got too close. Any attack on the castle will involve the White Dragon attacking me."

"How long will it take Mordred to get her ready?" Arthur asked with the strangest feeling of bitterness over this baby dragon being twisted for war.

"It could take days, months, years," Kilgarrah shrugged.

"You don't have anything a little more specific?"

"I expect Mordred will not wish to wait. I am unsure of the bond Morgana has with the White Dragon. She is not a dragonlord but the White Dragon saved her life, and she the White Dragon's. They have been free together, imprisoned together, they went mad together. I do not expect it will be long for the White Dragon's mind is already broken."

Arthur felt a definite pang of nausea now, how do you hate something, someone, who is insane? Who knows no better?

Of course Arthur hated Mordred, but that boy's insanity was off his own making. His mind was carefully crafted madness, twisted to cruelty. By the sound of things this Aithusa-White-Dragon just had a bad upbringing.

Much like Morgana.

His heart fluttered painfully.

His sister.

Why must everybody he love come to hate him?

"I also stay as I may try and repel the eventual attack," Kilgarrah was continuing. "For whilst there is no chance I could save you there is the hope that I may. I would advise you commission a blacksmith to smelt you and your knights swords and shields of iron, if I did not fear they may be misused against the magic of Albion."

Arthur took that piece of non-advise into account and made a note to himself to commission the swords and shields. And again there was this mention of Albion, hadn't Kilgarrah mentioned her, him, it, earlier?

"Has not Emrys led you to Excalibur?"

"Where?" Arthur asked dumbly.

Kilgarrah made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat but did not answer.

"Where's Excalibur? Why is it relevant?" Arthur pressed.

"It is not my place to speak of the Sword to you. To learn of Excalibur you must speak to Emrys."

So it's a sword, Arthur thought. This dragon really did have an unfortunate habit of giving away information by telling Arthur he would not give away that information.

Well, unfortunate for him, it was a fortunate habit for Arthur.

Pushing those thoughts aside Arthur turned to the face and name that was printed constantly in his mind.

"Merlin," he said, the name familiar and yet entirely different on his tongue.

"Emrys," Kilgarrah said, not correcting Arthur, just echoing Merlin's other name.

Merlin hadn't just been two faced but two named.

But of course, Arthur sighed to himself, if Merlin was two faced it was only because of necessity.

Arthur leant against the battlements and thought for a long moment. He glanced at the dragon who was steadily watching him.

"Would…?" his nerves momentarily gagged his throat, and then he had to summon up his courage to ask all over again.

"Yes?" Kilgarrah prompted him.

"Would you…uh…" Arthur didn't know if what he was asking was prudent, or even _right_, but some part of his soul _had_ to ask, "…take me to Merlin? Tonight? Now?"

The wind whistled passed them, from the darkness and into it. Kilgarrah regarded him with unreadable eyes.

"It's just, with you flying we could be there and back before tomorrow," Arthur felt compelled to explain, "and being King, and having just passed the new laws of magic, I can't really take days off…I want to, it's not that…I really, really want to see Merlin, but I am changing the laws because of what he taught me, and I don't…"

Arthur was nervous, he couldn't look at Kilgarrah. It sounded so flimsy, like after nearly killing Merlin he now couldn't spare him the time. But he was changing the laws for Merlin, so surely Merlin would want him to do it properly and not make a hash of it and ruin the chance for change?

But then who knew what Merlin wanted?

Arthur felt suddenly, powerfully lonely.

"No," Kilgarrah rumbled softly.

Arthur, filled with self-doubt, did not argue.

"Emrys must see you before you see Emrys, all was nearly broken and must be handled with care, lest the damage, mishandled, becomes irreparable," Kilgarrah explained slowly, without malice or anger in his tone.

"I know not yet if it is irreparable now, the future is clouded to me as it has never been before. Our current position is clear and has not fallen from Albion, yet it is a long journey through the maze and I do not know the way."

Kilgarrah's voice was deep and wise, even as he pronounced his ignorance. He seemed to treat the knowledge that everything could be broken as a mere possibility amongst many possibilities, like it was only one result of an equation he was still figuring out.

He sounded calm and methodical, logical.

Arthur wished he could feel like that.

But then, maybe he didn't. He had followed logic before, under his father's guidance, and it had nearly cost him everything.

Maybe if he had followed his heart…

But that was the past…

Maybe if he followed his heart now the pain would lead him the right way. Maybe the only solution to this disaster he had made was not something one thought of but something one felt.


	14. Chapter 14: Camelot and Ealdor

**Ahah! A chapter that isn't late! I am a legend!**

**(Is legend too much? Probably.)**

**How's it going? I'm good, I hope you're good. I mean it. I hope **_**you**_**, the reader, a fellow human being somewhere in the world, are good.**

**See one of the side effects of spending 9 hours in 3 days on public transport is that I have existential and philosophical moments. For some reason public transport just brings out the existentialism out in me. **

**So when I say **_**you **_**I mean **_**you. **_**A fellow human being whom I have never met, somewhere out in the world, reading these words.**

**(See now you might be thinking about what I was thinking when I am/was typing this, and I am thinking about you thinking about what I am thinking. It's like telepathy, only not.)**

**I hope you are having a good day, or are in a good mood, or both, whatever.**

**Okay well…that got out of hand…**

**I just think existentialism is cool, or at least it is today, after spending 9 hours of the past 3 days on trains.**

**I'm going to stop typing about existentialism now!**

**I haven't been able to write much recently so my uploaded chapters are catching up on my written ones. This may cause me to slow down a bit. Uni is like 'Do you reckon a student could dig themselves out of an avalanche of essays? Let's find out!' **

**I don't know who uni is talking to in that hypothetical…probably just some random guy drinking a thickshake.**

**Honestly I do like uni, seeing friends and learning stuff, it's just…you know…**_**essays.**_

**One last thing before I let you read the chapter, if you want to know a song I love that really _works _with this story, listen to 'Life is Beautiful.'**

** watch?v=KVrwcG3PV1w**

**It is a gorgeous song and the lyrics go so, so well. Almost, what with some of the stuff that happens in this story, painfully well.**

**Anyway, chapter…**

**Here…**

**Go read…**

**Now...**

**Chapter 14: Camelot and Ealdor.**

**::Arthur::**

Gwen and Gaius left for Ealdor the next morning. They didn't accept Arthur's offer of sending a cart driver with them; Gwen drove instead. She hadn't driven much before but Gaius was experienced and the horse was forgiving. Arthur could see in their eyes that Gaius and Gwen felt taking a driver would be too much like crowding Merlin.

Before they left Arthur went and told Gaius what Kilgarrah has said about Mordred seeking Morgana and the White Dragon as allies. Gaius had nodded, saying the White Dragon's name, Aithusa, thoughtfully to himself.

Arthur would've told Gwen this but she had woken on the Arthur-is-a-moron side of the bed and only stayed in the room long enough to shoot him an furious glare before going to find some breakfast for her and Gaius to eat on the road. He had been dismayed at Gwen's anger. When Gwen had talked to him after the discussion with the dragon a small, guilty feeling part of Arthur's mind had thought that, upon seeing him change the laws on magic, Gwen might have been beginning to understand that he was truly remorseful of what had happened. After Gwen's angry dismissal of him Arthur crushed that part of his mind furiously. How dare he hope for forgiveness from Gwen when he'd yet to ask it of Merlin?

And how dare he consider asking Merlin for forgiveness after what he had _done?_

The journey to Ealdor would only take a few hours on a fast horse, though with a slow cart horse it would take a bit longer. They could make the journey in one day if they pushed the cart horse and their journey began, and ended, in darkness. As Arthur saw them off before dawn he expected that was what they intended to do.

Arthur wanted to give them a message to take to Merlin but even as he tried to think of what to say his insides shrivelled in horror and shame.

This was something he was going to have to face himself.

Assuming of course that he would ever see Merlin again.

**::Merlin::**

A day or two after Kilgarrah came, time was difficult to measure between sleeping, waking and fitfully dreaming, Merlin was able to eat his first solid food in almost a week. This was due largely because he flatly refused to drink any more blood. A spark of him thought this would be a prime opportunity to make a vampire joke but he just bent over the warm porridge and said nothing. He didn't really feeling like joking and this confused, pained part of himself felt like if somebody tried to jest after what had happened he would start screaming.

His mother had said that when he started eating again he should be careful as none of them were sure of the damage to his throat. Also, because he hadn't eaten in so long, they should give his stomach an opportunity to remember how to actually function as a stomach.

She was right, a few spoonfuls in and Merlin could go no further. It took a lot of careful breathing for him not to be ill.

Merlin desperately wanted to see the sun again. An illogical part of him said that if he felt sunlight on his skin everything would be okay. However he didn't want the villagers staring. Hunith had told him that they knew he was here. They hadn't bothered her when he was sick and the shocking appearance of a dragon would make them too fearful to bother either of them anymore, but if he went outside they could still _see _him and the thought made him sick. He couldn't stand the idea of people; even tolerating his mother was a strain. People had either heard about what had happened or were concocting their own theories; both ideas rankled.

With an ache in his chest Merlin felt a guilty envy of his father, Balinor, who had lived in a cave. Balinor hadn't chosen it, but what Merlin wouldn't give for a cave right now. What Merlin wouldn't give for a secret place he could go and hide in, a place separate from time where he could stay for as long as it took him to recover so that when he returned nobody would be wondering why it had taken him so long to look them in the eye again.

The damage inside of him scared him, it terrified him. Not his throat, he knew he would physically recover, but his mind and heart. He felt broken beyond repair; diseased and sick. He felt like his heart and been riven into two pieces whose edges were so jagged that trying to put them back together would only cut them up worse.

In the center of it all was Arthur and the thought of his name alone making Merlin sick, sick, sick.

In the end Merlin convinced his mother he would be fine in the house alone and that she could go back to helping in the fields, the fields always being a bit of a communal effort. He waited a few minutes after she left then slipped out the back of the house and used his magic, which was trembling like an arm that has held a bow at full tension for too long, to find the people in town in order to avoid them.

Merlin ducked around the last house and slipped into the woodland, heading off to a clearing he and Will had frequented as children in search of sunlight.

He found the clearing with ease. The morning itself was bright and Merlin's shadow fell in front of him. He stepped out from under the shadow of the trees into the warmth of the sun. Merlin stood there for a moment, just feeling it on his back, then turned and lifted his head. His closed eyelids reduced the sun to a red and yellow blur…red and gold, the Pendragon colours.

Merlin sat down. The walk to the clearing and tired him even though he'd been sleeping and healing for days. He felt uncomfortable with his body, so feeble and weak, so vulnerable.

It was the blood loss, Merlin knew. One did not live with the physician of Camelot or survive many a battle without learning a thing or two about the effects of blood loss.

It would take him a while to get back his strength, but he didn't think he'd ever recover. Not in any way that mattered.

Merlin forced himself to his feet. He couldn't think about Arthur sitting down. Whenever he thought about Arthur he was struck by the overpowering instinct to flee his own head.

Why had he done it?

The same question a thousand times over. Circling inside his head like a flock of crows.

Why? Why had Arthur done it?

Why?

The tone of the question varied.

Mostly it was sad and heartbroken.

Mostly it was pleading, confused.

But sometimes it was _violent _and _furious_; with anger the likes of which Merlin had never known.

Why had Arthur done it?

How could he?

After everything Merlin had done for him, after everything he had lost, how dare he react to Merlin's magic with anything other than _complete understanding and overwhelming gratitude?_

Where did he find the nerve?

Where did he get the guts?

Merlin's hands shook and he realised he'd accidentally bitten his lip so hard it bled. He wiped the back of his hand against it, trembling with _rage _because _still _ he was bleeding over Arthur.

He was glad he was away from other people, he was glad he was away from his mother.

And Arthur…

He was glad he was away from Arthur. He couldn't be trusted with Arthur.

Thinking about Arthur, trying not to think about Arthur, failing at both, Merlin stood there, only half aware that he was crying, and trembling all over with pain and betrayal and fury; all the while feeling very, very dangerous.

If Merlin saw Arthur he really didn't know what he would do.

**::Arthur::**

After his early start Arthur had an exceptionally busy day. Well, that would be an understatement. He had a thousand things he had to do and all of them had to be done delicately and sensitively. Arthur being such a delicate and sensitive guy, this was easy.

He got a headache.

But he got it delicately.

Not only were there still things to do after his coronation, meeting with nobles and sending out official documents to what seemed to be every citizen of Camelot informing them of this change, but Arthur had to placate the nobles, the soldiers and the citizens about the new resident dragon, and he had to meet advisors and emissaries about his changes to laws on magic, and he had to do his Prince duties _as well as _his King duties as he had no son or daughter to hand his lesser duties to.

In a moment of desperation, when he had five meetings he had to go to at once, Arthur summoned Lancelot to his chambers and, without preamble, made him the new representative on the crowns' position on magic. Lancelot had been startled out of his very formal, very angry stand-to-attention and had seemed about to decline but Arthur had explained how Gaius and Gwen were gone and he didn't know anybody else whose opinion on magic he could trust. Though Lancelot had earlier professed and demonstrated his strict abiding to the law, he also realised this wasn't why he was chosen. He had been chosen because he was Merlin's friend.

Lancelot said yes.

Despite the headache and the frustrating feeling that even as he gets stuff done there is so far to go, Arthur's workload was good for him. It distracted him from the thought of a certain someone and from worrying about how said certain someone was going to receive Gaius and Gwen and the news that Arthur had changed the law.

Arthur wondered what Merlin was thinking about him…he wondered if Merlin would listen to an apology.

He wondered if there was any apology big enough.

On top of all of these duties and distractions, Gwaine had taken to arriving in whichever room Arthur was in and leaning moodily against the furthest wall from him, glaring. Arthur didn't know why he was doing this and he didn't have the time to find out, though he did take the time to reflect that if Gwaine was contemplating an uprising he was welcome to, just to give Arthur the chance to lie down. It was slightly alarming to consider that an overthrow of the crown would be relaxing in comparison to his current workload…alarming, but true.

However when Arthur was in the middle of a meeting with some advisors, all of who were advising on repealing his repeal on his father's magic laws, Leon burst in, yelling about training with the knights, Arthur had a flash of genius…or madness.

Arthur bustled the advisors from the room.

They protested loudly, to which Arthur responded,

"I have a really good explanation, which I would love to tell you."

He inhaled, began speaking and closed the door on their expectant faces.

When he turned around Gwaine's scathingly raised eyebrows Arthur had to count to ten to resist the urge to strangle him, flash or genius or not.

"King of Diplomacy as well the country?"

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked.

He was thankful that he sounded curious and not interrogatory.

Gwaine looked at him steadily.

"I'm trying to figure out if you regret killing Merlin or not," Gwaine said.

A jolt went through Arthur's system; he had just remembered that Gwaine didn't know.

"Gwaine," he began.

Gwaine leered at the sudden urgency in Arthur's tone.

"Relax Arthur, I'm not going anywhere. Or King Arthur, or His Royal Highness, or whatever it is we are supposed to…"

"Merlin is alive."

"What?" Gwaine said in the same leer, seeming to have heard Arthur speaking but not realized what he had said.

"Merlin is alive," Arthur repeated.

Gwaine froze, one leg leant against the wall, hair falling into eyes squinting with pain.

"You're lying," he said in a challenging voice.

"I'm not," Arthur rubbed his face wearily with one hand, "I forgot to tell you. The dragon told me. That's where Gaius and Gwen have gone. They've gone to Ealdor to see him."

Gwaine was looking very closely at Arthur's face.

"Why are you saying this now?" He asked.

"I...well…I thought you should know," Arthur replied with some confusion.

"Why _now_? Worried I'll set fire to your precious parchments if you don't give me some good news?" Gwaine pushed off the wall and strode forwards. Arthur could see in the lines of Gwaine's face that he didn't think Arthur was telling the truth.

"I forgot to earlier. I've been really, well…" Arthur paused, about to gesture to his work. "No…I shouldn't have been too busy to tell you…I'm…I'm sorry."

Apologizing to Gwaine was more challenging then Gaius and Gwen, probably because Gwaine saw it as his mission in life to challenge Arthur at every turn. However Arthur's apology had done what his explanations had not and Gwaine was staring at him with an oddly stricken expression.

"You're not…" Gwaine said, standing right in front of Arthur, seeming to be unable to find the words he sought, "He's not…"

"He's alive, I'll swear on anything you like, Merlin's alive. He magicked himself to Ealdor where his mother and that dragon healed him."

Gwaine was inhaling like he hadn't ever breathed before and rocked on his heels, so much so that Arthur gave an alarmed 'Gwaine!' as the knight staggered back away from Arthur.

"He's alive," Gwaine said in a hoarse voice.

He stared unseeingly at the floor for a moment then looked up with an expression like a dog about to bite. Arthur couldn't help twitching back.

"This doesn't negate you actions!"

"No," Arthur said quickly.

"Just because he survived your attempted-murder doesn't mean it wasn't…"

"I didn't…"

"You're still guilty!" Gwaine's voice was rising.

"I know Gwaine! Don't you think I know?" Arthur shouted, losing control of himself for a moment.

"I don't know how to set things right! I don't know if I can set things right! How am I supposed to fix this? What am I supposed to do?"

Arthur actually put his fist to his mouth to force himself to be silent. If he kept speaking he'd pour out every feeling and thought he had ever had and he wasn't sure Gwaine was the best person to do this do…or second best…or five hundredth best.

Despite Arthur having been able to stop his rant before it had really begun Gwaine was staring at him with a look of sudden insight, making Arthur feel highly uncomfortable.

"Anyway," Arthur continued, "the reason I wanted to talk to you was because I thought…I mean I wanted to offer you a promotion of sorts. I want you to be in charge of the knights."

Gwaine's brows flew up and disappeared beneath his fringe. It was possible they had kept rising beneath his hair to sit on the top of his head.

"Excuse me, I think I just blacked out for a second," Gwaine said.

Arthur sighed but strode to the desk where a servant had dumped the armfuls of scrolls he needed to accompany him. Bending over he started scribbling a note.

"I thought Leon was in charge of the knights," Gwaine said when it became evident Arthur wasn't going to tell him he hadn't blacked out.

"No, Leon is head knight. He takes orders and organizes the knights accordingly. The prince is usually in charge of the knights, or failing that the King," Arthur looked around the room for inspiration, trying to think of a title for this new position.

"And what, you don't have the time anymore so you're palming it off to me?" Gwaine crossed his arms.

"Gwaine if I was just 'palming it off' do you really think you would be my first choice?" Arthur asked. Gwaine's lack of response meant a grudging 'no.'

"I have been thinking about some changes in the…ah…division of power around the castle. It seems to me," Arthur breathed in his courage and mentally apologised to his father, "that a king with too much power is, well, dangerous."

"And what's that got to do with me?" Gwaine asked, sounding a little less hostile.

"Well, firstly more people between the King and military command means that there's greater power to stop the crown from committing injustice. You'd still have to follow orders, but this position would give the Royal Knight Commander," Arthur thought up of the name on the spot, "the power to weigh in on military decisions. I'll make some clause so that if they think the King is out of line they can call a council or something…" Arthur trailed off, thinking about courts and hierarchies and illegal orders, realising he was going to have to set some people to crafting what would be a very complex, delicate piece of law.

Making a mental note to continue that thought another time Arthur said,

"Secondly…the reason I am choosing you and not Leon or anybody else is that you are a friend of Merlin's. You're unbiased towards magic."

"I also quit," Gwaine pointed out.

Arthur remembered Gwaine saying that…well, yelling that.

"I believe you can do more good reforming the system then spitting on it from afar," Arthur said, though of course Gwaine would've done no such thing.

He would've spat on the system from up close.

"Why not Lancelot?" Gwaine asked and Arthur made another mental note: Tell Lancelot Merlin is alive!

(He underlined and circled that note several times.)

"Lancelot had a promotion of his own. He's the official representative of the new royal stance on magic."

"Yeah," Gwaine said, "but he could've been the new knight commander guy, he's certainly more of the noble…" Gwaine snapped to attention to illustrate Lancelot's formality, "…sort. So why me?"

If it wasn't for Gwaine's suspicious expression Arthur would've thought the man was digging for compliments.

"Because Lancelot would obey every order I said even if he disagreed," Arthur said in exasperation, "as would Leon and all of the other possible knights for this job. The whole point of this position is that I can count on its holder not to unquestioningly follow out unjust orders."

"And how many unjust orders are you planning on giving out?" Gwaine asked sardonically.

"This isn't just about me Gwaine," Arthur leant back from his table, rubbing his eyes. "This is about future King's as well. I have to make these changes now, in case I die and some anti-magic noble becomes King. As I have no heir the next King will be chosen by a council of nobles, I have to make sure there are safety precautions in case we get another…" he choked on his sentence.

"King Uther?" Gwaine asked in an uncharacteristic tone.

The tone itself was nothing in particular; it was more the lack of derision and scorn that made in uncharacteristic.

Arthur sighed, feeling like a traitor no matter which way he turned.

"Yeah."

Arthur bent back over his table and scrawled out the note. Finishing it he blew on it to dry the ink then rolled it up, turning to Gwaine, not sure if Gwaine was going to take it or not.

"If you want the position you would take this to Leon. Leon would be your subordinate, you second in command, but he's really organized so he'd know how to…organize…this…"

"I'm not saying I don't think you did something awful," Gwaine said in a steady voice, "nor am I saying I think you should be forgiven," he stood forwards and took the note from Arthur, "but I think you signing away some of your power is a pretty obvious sign that you know you did the wrong thing."

Arthur went to say 'thanks' but Gwaine stopped him, raising the hand with the note.

"Don't thank me," Gwaine said, "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for the people… for Merlin."

Arthur nodded, understanding, looking Gwaine straight in the eye so that his new Royal Knight Commander could see Arthur's honest desire to set things right there.

"Can you tell the Round Table knights that Merlin is still alive?" Arthur asked, regretting he couldn't do it himself but knowing he was already frightfully late to a meeting with his Council of Law.

Gwaine stared at him, or more accurately glared at him, then nodded and moved to the door.

"One last thing," Arthur suddenly remembered, "please don't…"

"Oh," Gwaine whirled around, "putting conditions on me already? Already regretting signing away your mil-"

"Don't poke the dragon," Arthur overrode him.

"I don't want my new Royal Knight Commander trying out his new position by getting himself roasted."

Arthur then called in a servant to gather his scrolls and left the room whilst Gwaine stood at the doorway, trying to figure out if Arthur was insulting his intelligence or expressing a sincere concern for his health.

**::Gwen::**

It was dark by the time Gwen and Gaius arrived in Ealdor. They had set up a lantern on a pole so they could see where they were going. It wasn't the brightest of lights, so thankfully the path was well worn.

Gaius had told her about the alert charm Merlin had set up around Ealdor but he'd then explained how he expected it to have failed when their shields had failed on the day Merlin disappeared. That was how both of them referred to Merlin's attempted murder, the day he 'disappeared.' Any other description or title came too close to home and made their hearts quail with memory. Despite his insistences that the charm had probably broken Gwen could see Gaius looking around in the swinging light of the lanterns flame, half expecting Merlin to appear out of the darkness.

He didn't.

Gwen wasn't sure how she felt. She was excited about seeing Merlin, but she was also extremely nervous and she couldn't work out why. She'd hardly slept the night before and had found herself restless and snapping at everybody other than Gaius and Arthur. Gwen was so confused about Arthur she didn't even bother with summoning up something waspish to say, she just glared at him. Remembering Arthur's wounded expression as she sat in the rickety old cart besides Gaius, Gwen was surprised that she felt the tiniest twinge of regret. Immediately upon feeling this she examined her emotions.

Why did she regret glaring at Arthur after what he had done?

Had she started to forgive him?

Instantly she thought no, that would be a betrayal of Merlin. She hadn't even seen him yet, she could hardly start doing anything other than violently loathing Arthur.

But then, upon remembering when Merlin disappeared, Gwen remembered Arthur's cries of 'Merlin!' and for the first time she remembered him yelling at his father, asking Uther with agony and disbelief in his voice, 'What have you done?'

As they travelled it started to spot with raindrops, then drizzle, then rain. Eventually it was steadily pouring, soaking both Gwen and Gaius through. Gwen had the strangest feeling that they were travelling through the rain, as opposed to the rain passing over them.

The rain stopped the lamplight falling as far, so Ealdor loomed out of the darkness suddenly, like the town had sneaked up on them.

Both Gwen and Gaius having been to Ealdor before they found Hunith's house with relative ease. Gwen and Gaius both got out of the cart, landing on a road of mud and little rivers, and led the horse between the houses. Hunith heard them doing this and came out; greeting them and helping them unharness the horse from the cart. The cart remained out the back of her house and the horse went into a small pen that may once have belonged to a pig with an old horse rug Hunith borrowed from a neighbour thrown over him.

Hunith then led them inside to an empty house.

"Where's Merlin?" Gaius had demanded, looking around the house lit by a few lonely lamps."

Kilgarrah told us Merlin was here!"

Hunith heard the alarm in his voice soothingly said,

"He's around. He's just…gone for a walk."

"Gone for a walk!" Gwen couldn't help from exclaiming. "In the dark? In the rain? I thought he was dying!"

"He's been getting better, especially since that dragon came, though I tell you it was a bit of a shock," Hunith said and tried to smile reassuringly; Gwen and Gaius shared scared looks.

"It's pouring out there," Gaius said, gesturing to the roof, where the steady patter of rain could be heard, "he'll catch his dea..cold…he'll catch a…cold."

"He'll be okay," Hunith said, but Gwen couldn't help noticing that she glanced at the door with some nervousness as well.

For all of Hunith's well-meant assurance, they _had _to see Merlin alive themselves. They'd spent too long believing he was dead not to fear that the past few days of believing he was alive was the result of a huge misunderstanding. Merlin being dead seemed so horrible that it had to be true, the misunderstanding so cruel it had to have happened.

They turned to each other, Gwen unable to think up of a word of comfort for Gaius, who looked stricken, when the door swung quietly open and made them look around.

And there he was.

There was Merlin.

Gwen put her hand to her heart without even noticing because it was him, he was there, he was alive. Merlin's hair was plastered to his face and there was a big white scarf around his neck, which surprised Gwen slightly. Gaius struggled to his feet but was too distracted with the overwhelming reality of _Merlin_ who was here and alive to move forward.

Merlin was looking in at them, one hand holding the door open, thinner than Gwen remembered and soaked to the skin.

But _alive._

Only…he was missing something…Merlin wasn't smiling.

He didn't looked surprised or excited or animated at all. He had the flattened expression of somebody hiding a thousand sudden thoughts.

His hand, curled around the door, rotated slightly, as though Merlin was readying to step back and full it closed between him and his friends. Gwen's breath caught but she couldn't think of anything that would make him stay.

Gaius moved forward and stumbled over a chair leg and suddenly Merlin was _there _and not leaving.

"Gaius!" he cried out in alarm and sprang forwards, catching the old man before he could really begin to fall. As Merlin stepped into lamplight Gwen realised he wasn't wearing a scarf, but a huge bandage that wrapped around and around his throat.

Merlin settled Gaius back in his chair carefully, but something was still wrong. Gaius was trying to hug him but Merlin didn't seem to notice. He extricated himself from Gaius' attempted embrace and turned to his mother.

"It's raining very hard," he said seriously, as though it was very important he said this.

Gwen saw Gaius' arms fall to his side and the old man's face follow his adopted nephew's, looking hurt and baffled

"Merlin," Gwen said hesitantly, feeling wrong-footed and not knowing how to behave with this weirdly distant version of her friend.

"Oh," Merlin said distractedly, turning to look at Gwen, "sorry."

He lifted one hand and his eyes flashed gold and Gwen's clothes were suddenly warm and dry. She gave a small gasp of surprise but was proud of herself for not jumped. As Gaius, Hunith and Merlin were all steaming and dry Gwen could tell he had cast the spell on all of them.

"Merlin," Gaius said from the chair where Merlin had left him, "we thought you were dead."

"Oh, yeah," Merlin said, looking highly uncomfortable.

"It's…you're alive," Gwen said in a small voice.

Why wasn't he happy to see them?

"Merlin," Hunith said and Merlin looked around at her with a strange, desperate expression on his face.

"Merlin," she said again, very softly, "it's okay."

Gwen felt very small and sad, but she was beginning to understand. If she had been nervous about meeting Merlin for the first time after seeing him almost die, how must he have felt? How must he be feeling?

"Merlin," she said in a tiny voice, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry, she thought, looking at him.

I'm sorry about everything that happened to you, even though it wasn't my fault.

I'm sorry I didn't protect you, even though I couldn't.

I'm sorry somebody as kind and caring as you had to suffer so great a cruelty.

"It wasn't your fault," Merlin whispered, not looking at her, still seeming to not know what to do with himself. Gwen walked forwards slowly, hands held carefully before her so he could see they were empty and harmless. He watched her come and when Gwen tentatively moved in to hug him he put his forehead to her shoulder and returned her embrace.

"I know," Gwen said, pressing her cheek gently to his bandaged neck, "but I'm sorry anyway."

**::Merlin::**

Merlin didn't want to know the truth…but he needed to know.

So Gauis and Gwen told him.

They told him everything.

Merlin had known it was Arthur. He'd seen the guilt in Arthur's eyes that day; it felt like yesterday, it felt like an age ago.

Merlin knew Arthur well enough to see, in hindsight, that he was complicit.

The terrible thing was he'd probably known it at the time too, Merlin thought to himself as he listened to Gaius and Gwen. He remembered suspecting Arthur was going to hurt him, he remembered the fear as he followed him.

The truth, however, was worse.

Not only had Arthur had betrayed him on that day, but his entire forgiveness of Merlin was a trick, was a lie. He'd taken advantage of Merlin trying to prove his trustworthiness, for whilst trying to show Arthur he could be trusted Merlin would never have suspected Arthur was deceiving him.

Gwen buried her head in her hands when Gaius began telling Merlin about the plans Uther and Arthur had made, to have him struck down, imprisoned, _bled_. It made Merlin's skin prickle in a dull kind of horror. It was a terrible, terrible thing for Arthur to plan to do, but he'd ended up doing much worse in the end, hadn't he?

When Gwen started telling him about how Arthur had begun doubting his father's plan Merlin got up and began pacing. By the time she was recounting Arthur's so called _grief_ after Merlin's disappearance he was rubbing his fists on his legs.

Then Gaius told Merlin that Uther was dead and Merlin stopped pacing.

He looked across at Gaius.

In a quiet voice, Gwen described saving Arthur.

In a quiet voice, Gaius described abandoning Uther.

Merlin began pacing again. He felt a sickening, vindictive stab of pleasure that Uther was gone and a horrible satisfaction that Arthur had been shown how helpless he was without Merlin. These feelings, so ugly and so new, horrified him and he excused himself to go and check on the horse. He felt broken, like goodness inside of him had been cut along with his thoat.

But the act of making sure the horse was warm woke him to himself as much as the cold rain dripping down the back of his shirt. He returned to the house, magicking his clothes dry.

He felt nothing when Gwen told him about the repeal on Uther's laws on magic.

It was all he had been working for, it was his life's desire, and he just felt…nothing. It wasn't even the nothing of an absence of pain, for it was not relief. It was the nothing of having no senses at all. It was the nothing of being lost and alone in the dark, with no memory of sight or sound and no hope of ever feeling anything again.

Gaius had then told him about Kilgarrah arriving at Arthur's coronation. Hunith smiled warmly, she quite liked the dragon for saving her son. Gaius described Kilgarrah offering to protect the castle from Mordred, including the warnings the dragon had given Arthur the night before Gaius and Gwen had left.

Merlin didn't know what to think. He didn't want to return to Camelot or Arthur, but this easy replacement of him was hard on the heart.

He was all jumbled up inside.

He felt worn and tired, like he could lie down and sleep forever.

But then that would be like dying wouldn't it?

Someone was talking but Merlin wasn't paying attention, a lick of fire had gone through him.

He remembered Uther, he remembered that assassin, that knife.

He remembered Arthur, telling him to trust him and then throwing him to the wolves.

No…he wasn't ready to die yet.

Brooding, it took Merlin a while to realize everyone had stopped talking.

He looked up.

He was being watched. Even the eyes of his friends made his skin prickle, made him want to snarl their gazes away.

"Did you hear what I said?" Gwen asked.

"No," he responded apologetically.

"I said…" Gwen's voice was getting smaller, "Arthur…"

Merlin didn't flinch at Arthur's name.

No, when he heard Arthur's name he went very, very still.

"…he did say he was sorry. He said he didn't mean for it to happen."

Merlin felt cold and sad, the sadness of a thousand years of heartbreak.

"Didn't mean for it to happen?" He said, and to his ears his voice sounded strange and wretched.

"Then why did he do it?"


	15. Chapter 15: Never

**Hello lads and lasses,**

**You are wondering, perhaps, why this is being uploaded early? Well, I'm going to be somewhere on the side of a mountain with only half a tent and my cunning at my disposal, so I thought I'd upload this now. Next weeks will be at its usual time: Wednesday.**

**Anyway, can't linger! I've got uni assignments I need to finish and submit online before leaving civilisation.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 15: Never.**

**::Arthur::**

After the sleepless night the day before and a meeting that went very late Arthur collapsed into bed with a loving groan.

"Bed," he moaned, stuffing his head into a pillow.

He didn't know what time he had to be up the next morning but he assumed some angry advisors would come in and let him know. Arthur fully intended to sleep until somebody needed him awake enough to brave his early-morning wrath.

However, this was not to be.

Arthur felt like he'd just drifted off when he was suddenly awoken by what was probably the last thing he wanted to hear, a furious, bellowing roar echoing from the castle roof. He sat up with a flail, sword somehow in his hand, completely confused. A wild moment passed and Arthur lowered his sword, rubbing his eyes.

What was that?

Had he been dreaming?

He straightened up; he must've been dreaWHAT WAS THAT?

The very walls of the castle shook as a second thunderous bellow sounded through the castle.

Arthur sprinted from his room. He had time to fleetingly wish he was wearing more than just his pyjama pants (and then a second more to be grateful he wasn't starkers) but then a third roar shook the castle and he was done thinking.

"Kilgarrah!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, bursting out of the stairwell tower onto the castle wall.

Kilgarrah was perched on the far castle tower, wings out for balance, head turned to the sky, _shrieking_.

Arthur swung around, sword skating on the stone wall, searching the sky for the source of Kilgarrah's distress. He couldn't see anything but he knew what was out there, he knew of one and only one enemy who would come from the sky.

There! A distance burst of fire that poured across a golden-blue magical shield that appeared beneath it. Behind it a dull streak flitted against the black night and shining stars. The White Dragon…and though Arthur couldn't see them from here he knew Mordred and Morgana would be out there too.

To his left Arthur heard stone scraping free of the castle.

"Kilgarrah! Be careful!" Arthur yelled, turning, "there are people below you."

Indeed there were. Kilgarrah's roars had roused the castle and people were spilling into the courtyard as quickly as they, upon finding the source of all the noise, were scrambling back out of it.

But the dragon kept roaring; Arthur realised that whilst sometimes he was just roaring, every now and then what was undoubtable words formed from the noise, though not words from any language Arthur recognised.

"Kilgarrah!" Arthur raced over. He went to sheath his sword, realised he was wearing only his pyjama bottoms, said 'aaah' and kept holding it.

"Kilgarrah, stop it! The loose rock could hurt someone!"

Arthur didn't think Kilgarrah had heard him. The dragon sucked in another breath, curled his toes around the side of the castle tower and breathed a torrent of fire. Arthur flinched back, raising his hand between him and the harsh light of dragon-fire. For a few more seconds all Arthur could hear was the blazing exhalation, then with a groan of bone and sinews the dragon threw himself into the sky, knocking free more chunks of the wall.

Arthur leant over the castle wall, making sure the rocky shrapnel didn't hit anyone. When he was sure the people below were safe he looked back up.

Unlike the shadowing White Dragon, Kilgarrah was a golden beacon with his scales reflecting the silver starlight and seeming to shine gold with some inner light. He wasn't flying up to meet the White Dragon but circling the castle, head twisted up so his gaze was ever fixed on his enemy.

Arthur knew next to nothing about dragons but his military brain had gone into overdrive, thinking about tactics in vertical battles and giving him a sudden appreciation of Kilgarrah's magical shield. If it hadn't been there the White Dragon would've had the advantage of height, would've been able to dive down onto Kilgarrah like an enemy with a superior position up a slope. Also, as she was smaller the White Dragon was probably much more nimble.

The idea of a dragon on dragon battle filled Arthur with horror for his people but also experienced a sliver of breathless curiosity. It would certainly be memorable to watch.

He thought this as, above him, Kilgarrah continued to circle, roaring up at the White Dragon who, after flaming at the shield a few more times, circled once in the light of the moon and whisked away, vanishing like wind into the night.

But whilst Kilgarrah landed, growling, and the night was left clear as before, Arthur felt like a shadow had fallen over his mind.

For Mordred, his father's murdered, and Morgana, his mad sister, had been _right there_.

And he had no doubts that they'd be back.

**::Gwen::**

Merlin slept long into the morning.

They had stayed up very late talking, stopping abruptly when, seemingly without warning, Merlin had a near-fainting spell. He'd just stumbled and sunk to the ground mid-speech. Gaius and Hunith had immediately bustled him over to the bed and Gwen had picked up the toppled chair. She told herself she hadn't wanted to crowd or fuss over Merlin, but really she had needed a moment. There was something piercingly sad about a person rendered so weak they couldn't stand. Merlin just being too tired, falling to his knees, and him the sort of person who would hate exhibiting such weakness, made Gwen feel wounded and desperate.

She remembered that Merlin hadn't eaten dinner.

When Gwen asked Gaius after Merlin had been settled into bed Gaius said that he'd been drawing his strength from his magic, which had masked the signs of impending collapse. Gaius told Gwen about how Merlin's magic would've been injured as well as his body. Not knowing what else to do, Gwen had settled for looking worried.

Hunith had needed to leave that morning. She said it was because it was harvest time but Gwen suspected she wanted to give Merlin freedom to talk with Gaius and Gwen alone. She'd gone over to the bed, she'd insisted Merlin slept in it and Gaius and Gwen had slept on the floor with her, and woke Merlin by stroking his hair. Mumbling a good morning and a goodbye he'd rolled over to face the wall and drifted off again.

Gwen had bustled around caring for Gaius because spending hours in the rain, staying awake late into the night and sleeping on a hard dirt floor meant he was so stiff he had the flexibility of a scarecrow. She made him some hot tea and put a rag in the boiling water, giving it to him to drape over his various joints in turn so he could warm up for the day like some kind of lizard.

At one point they thought Merlin was awake because he had mumbled something, but then he said louder, 'No, no, I've gotta take the sheep back,' and they realised he was dreaming.

For something reason this made Gwen need to sit down.

He still dreamed.

He was alive. Gaius, seeing her distress, had risen creakily and made her tea, which she accepted.

They waited for a while longer, thinking to only start cooking the breakfast porridge when Merlin woke up, but Merlin had shown no signs of waking any time soon so, together, they took the ingredients they had bought from Camelot and cooked it over the small fireplace Hunith had in the corner of her house. There was an ingenious chimney system; where the roof thatching should've been set alight by sparks there was a small lip of clay off the wall that guided the fire outside. The chimney was curved as well so Hunith could have a fire in the rain. Gwen suspected this was all a result of Merlin growing up here, seeing a problem and not resting until he had found a solution. Even if the solution was a bit odd.

Gaius, tea in hand, had wandered around the house, in turn looking up at the ceiling and down at the floor and announcing, after his fifth very slow lap, that the roof must have a water-proofing charm on it. Gwen, watching him wander around with her hands over the steam of her tea, had taken his word for it.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin could hear voices.

He was curled on his left side, so he must be facing the wall. Keeping his breath slow and steady Merlin listened in case the voices would say things they would hide if they knew he was awake.

Gaius was talking about the house, making deductions about parts of it that Merlin could confirm as quite accurate. Every now and then he heard Gwen make an observation or ask a question.

Then there was silence for a while.

Merlin didn't have to worry about drifting off again; he was feeling increasingly awake the longer he lay there, which seemed illogical. He started to wonder if they would say anything else, anything he could use to build an accurate picture of this lying world, when Gwen spoke again, very softly.

"Do you think Arthur is sorry, Gaius?"

Breathe in, breathe out, Merlin. Don't let them know you are awake.

"Yes," Gaius said with a muffled thunk like he had placed something down with some force.

Merlin could imagine Gaius with his arms braced on a chair, though of course it wouldn't be a chair, why would Gaius have been carrying a chair around?

"You don't sound like you think it's a good thing," Gwen said in a sorrowful, confused voice.

"I think Arthur is sorry, but I do not think he has the capacity to be sorry enough."

"He seemed…I don't know…genuine…"

"The shallowest person can cry and say the right words. I do not know if he has it in him to feel remorse in his _soul_."

"You're a physician," Gwen said, sounding surprised, "I didn't think you'd talk about souls and such, no offense," she added quickly.

"As a physician I look at the brain and heart, yes. But as a human I must think of the soul. Or at least…that's what Merlin has taught me."

Merlin wasn't sure if he imagined the weight of Gaius' and Gwen's gazes on him, but he focused on breathing slowly and evenly all the same.

"During the Great Purge…I did not understand that there are things…I fooled myself into thinking that the right answer can be found exclusively by analysis. I was remorseful, I knew I was guilty, but I reasoned that my trying to stop it wouldn't have done much anyway, and it truly wouldn't've. I told myself this meant I was not, in fact, guilty. But I was. I alone had the ear of the king; I alone had the slimmest, slightest chance of stopping him. But…but that's in the past. It was in knowing Merlin that I realized…how many I had failed. If Merlin had been in the Purge, and I had not raised a hand to stop it…how many people died when I could've stopped it, how many people died when I didn't even try? How many sons and daughters? How many Merlin's?"

"Well, you say Merlin taught you how to feel remorse and do the right thing…couldn't that be the same for Arthur?"

Gaius did not answer.

Merlin shivered with sickness and pain once all over. _Arthur._

How could you Arthur?

How could you?

(To me?)

(Merlin?)

Gwen said something so quietly Merlin didn't hear it. The rustle of cloth and the 'Sorry?' from Gaius must've been because Gaius hadn't heard her either.

Gwen mumbled again.

"I don't know," Gaius replied.

"It's just…if he never comes back…"

Come back?

Were they talking about him?

Going back to…Camelot?

The thought made him want to get to his feet and walk off his thoughts, losing them in the smell of pine and the sound of the breeze.

He rolled onto his back, rubbed his eyes and made a 'grrraaarh' sound to suggest he'd only just woken up. Gaius and Gwen greeted him with happy voices; if Merlin hadn't heard them he would've thought they'd just been talking about puppies and ducklings. He responded with awake-but-not-awake 'gggrrrnnhrgh' and propped himself up, all the while thinking about what they had just been talking about.

Merlin? Go back to Camelot?

Never.

* * *

Merlin let Gwen and Gaius pretend that there was no looming matter of guilt or betrayal hanging over them during breakfast; more specifically, his breakfast, as Gaius and Gwen had already eaten theirs. He determinedly made small talk with Gwen because he could see Gaius eyeing the bandage around his throat and didn't want Gaius asking to look under it at his wound. But of course Gaius wasn't going to be derailed by diversionary tactics and as Merlin talked to Gwen he gradually moved closer to Merlin. Finally after nearly whacking Gaius for the third time whilst gesturing Merlin looked up.

"What, Gaius?"

"Your bandages haven't been changed today," Gaius said, breathing down Merlin's neck.

He was glaring at the white cloths as though his ability to see through them was based solely on his desire to.

"The wound is completely closed and they cloth is clean," Merlin said uncomfortably, resenting Gaius' intrusion. "I can do it myself after I've had breakfast."

"I would like to see for myself that the wound is healing," Gaius said.

He didn't so much go into 'physician' mode when he was worried about Merlin as so much he went into 'mother hen who is remarkably trained in human biology' mode. It was very irritating.

Merlin didn't want to draw attention to his discomfort by asking Gwen to leave so he begrudgingly allowed Gaius to undo his bandages without further protest. Gaius would see it sometime or another, may as well get it over and done with.

As he started unravelling them the bandages beneath loosened and fell away.

"My word!" Gaius breathed.

"Merlin," Gwen said, her voice sounding wounded and stricken and like she'd said his name despite vowing to herself that she wouldn't.

He knew what they were seeing. His new smile. The one that came so high none of his old neckerchiefs would cover it, no matter how he folded or tied them.

Merlin jutted his chin out in defiance of the compulsion to duck it to his chest and wished Gaius would get on with whatever he was doing. When Gwen came around the table and placed a hand on Gaius' shoulder Merlin realised the old man had been frozen with horror; Merlin felt a prickle of shame, when had he become so brusque?

Was it before the knife, or after?

Was he broken?

Before Merlin could muddle himself into kindness Gaius came back to himself and stooped over to examine Merlin's scar.

"It's a magical scar…" Gaius' said idly, touching his hand to the side of Merlin's Adams apple.

Merlin swallowed; he could feel Gaius' fingers there but not with the same sensitivity as normal skin.

"You can see by the way the skin as come together, almost like a burn, or like it's been melted," Gaius continued murmuring.

His fingers travelled up along the scar to Merlin's ear; it tickled slightly.

"It's a miracle it healed," Gaius continued to himself, "It's a miracle you survived, I mean really with…"

He stopped speaking as a tear dripped from Merlin's chin to his hand and Merlin turned his head away.

He wasn't healed.

There was no surviving this.

_Arthur._

There was no surviving this hole inside him.

_WHY ARTHUR?_

Gaius and Gwen…with all their talk of Arthur's regret, of what Arthur had learnt….they probably expected Merlin to forgive him now, this instant. They probably expected Merlin to find a way to be okay.

But he couldn't.

He shivered at the thought of their judgement.

Merlin stood and his chair slammed to the ground.

There were too many people in this room. There were too many people in his _head. _He wanted it to be over, he wanted out. He wanted to be a ghost, to be nothing, anything other than _this…this…_

"Merlin," Gaius said in a small voice.

"I can't do this," Merlin didn't know what his voice sounded like; he didn't know if he'd even spoken out loud.

He left the house and disappeared before anyone could follow him.

**::Gwen::**

Merlin's absence seemed to suck all of the courage Gaius had left from him; it was all Gwen could do to get a chair beneath him before he staggered backwards.

"It's okay," she said, stoking the fire and quickly throwing together yet another cup of tea, "it's okay."

"How could this have happened," Gaius said, "How could I have-"

"This isn't your fault," Gwen said immediately, putting the cup on the table and squeezing Gaius' fingers within her own.

"_This isn't your fault._"

"Go after him Gwen," Gaius said, obviously accepting that he would have no hope of catching his nephew and shooting a glare at his arthritic knees. Gwen hesitated.

"Please," Gaius said and returned the pressure on Gwen's hands, "The only way to make me okay is to help him."

"Okay," Gwen said, looking into Gaius' eyes and seeing love and honesty in the darkness of his pupils.

Gwen knew Merlin, but she could also feel something. She wasn't sure if it the magical shield around her calling to its origin or something else entirely, but either way she followed it.

* * *

The woods were beautiful. They weren't like the woods around Camelot that held bandits and monsters; woods Gwen had been conditioned to fear. These were the woods of fairy tales, only better, because they were real.

Dappled sunlight made its way through the high canopy of pines and oaks and trees Gwen didn't recognize. The place smelt like sap and crushed pine needles and the nice, musky smell of dust after rain. The soft, brown soil was bared in some places but was mostly hidden, tucked beneath a blanket of fallen leaves and pinecones. As Gwen stepped lightly into the woods the sound of the village faded behind her and before her came a quiet that was so alive.

The wind hissed like a gentle river through the tree tops and squirrels quarrelled in the distance. A variety of bird songs, with varying distances from Gwen, filtered to her ears from unseen singers, and every now and then a determined beetle zoomed passed with a purposeful _whir_.

Yes, Gwen thought, imagining unicorns and druids and other magical things she felt no fear for.

This was the sort of place one would go to when one was fleeing the world.

"Merlin," she called tentatively. She had thought her voice would sound intrusive in its humanness in these gently untamed woods, but it didn't. The quiet symphony of the woods embraced her voice and made it a part of itself.

"Merlin," she called louder, with more confidence.

There was a faint trail on the ground, probably a game trail. Gwen set off along it, pausing after every step to listen for Merlin, to listen to the woods, to listen to her own heartbeat.

**::Arthur::**

"Kilgarrah-"

"Gesundheit."

"Shut up, Gwaine!" Arthur hissed, "Kilgarrah, this is Gwaine."

Arthur gestured to his Royal Knight Commander hesitantly, keeping an eye on the dragon he was addressing.

"Gwaine, Kilgarrah," He then gestured to the dragon, eyeing Gwaine with a make-a-rude-comment-and-I-won't-have-to-kill-you-as-the-dragon-will-have-eaten-you expression.

Gwaine didn't pay his expression any attention; he was too busy staring at the dragon's teeth.

"It is nice to make your acquaintance, Knight of the Round Table," Kilgarrah rumbled with surprising succinctness.

"Nice to make your acquaintance too…um…Dragon of the…Castle Roof," Gwaine said, halfway between trying to make a joke and an honest attempt at politeness.

Kilgarrah tilted back his head and made a sound like he'd broken his jaw. Arthur and Gwaine shared a very manly glance, to compare manliness and not at all to see if the other was running for their lives.

"I like this one, this one can stay," Kilgarrah said after making the broken-jaw noise again.

Gwaine grinned tentatively.

"Kilgarrah, Gwaine is my new Royal Knight Commander, therefore you two may need to coordinate military tactics in the event of another…an attack."

Arthur had to stop and remind himself last night hadn't not been an attack but a scouting mission by Mordred, Morgana and the White dragon. It's just that Kilgarrah's rage had been so powerful it had seemed like battle.

"The gnat," Kilgarrah snapped and Arthur had to remind himself that Kilgarrah's rage was not yet abated.

"And Gwaine, Kilgarrah is…well…" To be honest, Arthur had no idea how to describe Kilgarrah. Gwaine crossed his arms and smiled unhelpfully.

"The dragon that crashed your coronation then forcibly moved into the castle?" Gwaine clarified for Arthur.

"Onto the castle, Sir Gwaine," Kilgarrah admonished absently amid rumbles of gnats, "I would, of course, not fit in the castle."

"Metaphorically, my dear dragon," Gwaine said, actually placing a hand over his heart as though vowing an oath of honesty.

Arthur glared at him.

"Oh course, Sir Gwaine," Kilgarrah agreed.

Arthur was too intimidated to glare at Kilgarrah, so he settled with remaining glaring at Gwaine.

These two could _not _be buddies…it would just be too confusing.

"Yes, well," Arthur interrupted, "basically, you," he pointed at Kilgarrah, "need to not eat him," he pointed at Gwaine.

"Or roast him alive," Gwaine added, with the sort of raised eyebrows 'yeah, yeah?' expression almost always associated with an elbow to the ribs (as Kilgarrah was so tall his ribs were well out of reach. Also, they could've seated several men, lessening the appeal of jabbing them with a limb joint.)

Kilgarrah rumbled as though Gwaine had made a classy political joke he very much appreciated the wit of.

"As long as you promise not to do the same to me, Sir Gwaine," Kilgarrah replied.

Gwaine roared with much more laughter then Arthur thought the joke warranted, but Arthur was too busy throwing his hands in the air in irritation to otherwise care.

"Anyway!" Arthur shouted over the beginning of Gwaine's response, facing Kilgarrah with grumpiness-inspired courage,.

"You said you thought it was just a scouting mission?"

"Yes," Kilgarrah said, looking away from Gwaine and assuming the sour expression he always seemed to wear when talking to Arthur.

"Could you feel anything with your…dragon magic? How strong they are? What their plans might be?" Arthur asked.

Gwaine opened his mouth so Arthur elbowed him in the stomach to shut him up.

"The White Dragon is very confused. Like a river turned upon itself, her flow shall be determined by the intricate delicacies of the weight of the water. Her will is weak when she is undecided, it will not be hard for Mordred to impose his will onto hers, though he is not a dragonlord."

Arthur tapped his hand thoughtfully on the pommel of his sword, eyes drifting into middle distance.

Kilgarrah looked at him with an expression sharper than his own massive teeth.

"It would be easy to avoid an attack with the Dragonlord present," he said slyly.

"No," Arthur said, half way between firm and tired.

He rubbed his hands through his hair.

"We agreed to leave Merlin out of this."

"Ah. Dragonlord," Gwaine said to nobody in particular. "That explains the wyverns."

"But…anyway, did you feel their strength?" Arthur continued, pulling his mind away the pang in his chest.

"I do not need to feel their strength when I know they are strong," Kilgarrah responded.

"Hmmm," Arthur skewed his mouth, dissatisfied.

Why was there no easy solution?

Why was there no clear right way?

According to the dragon having Merlin around would guarantee Camelot's safety, but Gwen had explained how it would be unethical to use this knowledge to force Merlin to help them.

Because he would, Arthur thought glumly.

If Merlin knew his protection was better than anybody else's he'd be back guarding Camelot in an instant, if not for Arthur certainly for the thousands of people who lived in the city. Merlin was _good _like that.

Even if he hated Arthur and resented the ties holding him, he'd stay.

Which was, of course, why Arthur couldn't try to tie him down.

_I can salvage this, _he said to himself. But even to himself his words sounded feeble and empty.

Merlin had to return on his own terms or not at all.

Only Arthur couldn't see, after everything that had happened, after everything he had done, how Merlin's terms would ever involve returning to the city that had hated him and the king that had turned Merlin against himself.

How could Merlin ever return when Arthur had made Merlin use his own love and kindness to cut out his heart?

**::Merlin::**

Merlin's legs dangled over either side of the tree branch and his back was leant against the rough bark of the trunk. Pine needles kept sticking him the eyes but he didn't really mind, he was concentrating. Gwen was approaching. Merlin had been listening to her getting closer well before she'd come within earshot.

He didn't want to return to the house, he didn't want to return to Camelot.

He wanted friends; he wanted to be completely alone.

He wanted Arthur.

He wanted Arthur.

He wanted to _kill _Arthur.

(No he didn't, no he didn't, he hadn't meant that.)

(He had.)

(That wasn't who he was.)

(He didn't know who he was anymore.)

(And that was Arthur's fault.)

Merlin sighed.

He just wanted Arthur to take back what he had done, even though that was impossible.

Merlin hated the part of him that wanted to hear Arthur's apologies, listening to see if it was good enough. That pathetic, scraping dog inside of him that would do anything, _anything,_ to forgive Arthur, to friends again.

To be loved.

He couldn't forgive Arthur. Not for this, not after this.

Gwen was getting closer; he could hear her feet crunching on dried pine needles below him.

The crunching paused.

"Merlin?"

He wanted to go down; he wanted her to come up. He wanted to sink into the tree and never be found by anything other than a family of squirrels or the birds that made their nests in trees.

"Merlin," Gwen's voice was clearer. Merlin looked down and looked at her looking up.

He sighed within himself.

"Hi," he said from several meters above Gwen.

"How'd you get up there?" Gwen asked, eyeing the branchless base of the trunk.

Merlin shrugged. By her expression Gwen didn't think that was an adequate answer but didn't pursue the matter.

"Are you going to come down?"

"Probably," Merlin replied. "I'd die of exposure or dehydration up here."

"Yeah, you would," Gwen said in a slightly baffled tone.

They looked at each other for a while, Merlin not jiggling his foot because that would get in the way of his view of Gwen.

"I can't come back with you," he said. "I know you want me to, but I can't."

Gwen looked up at him, craning her neck, stretching out her unmarked throat.

"Maybe…"

Merlin didn't like the tone in her voice.

"…if you and Arthur talked…"

She trailed off, idea in the air between them.

"What's there to say?" Merlin shrugged hopelessly, "actions speak louder than words. Arthur has been loud enough, thanks."

Loud enough to deafen, Merlin mused, ignoring the way Arthur's name had caught in his throat like it were a hook and he a fish.

"He's tried to apologize," Gwen said.

"Not to me. He's said sorry to a bunch of people he didn't try to kill, but he hasn't apologized to _me_."

"You haven't been…he's apologized to everyone he can, it's just that you weren't…"

"There? And whose fault is that?" Merlin snapped, sitting up straighter as though readying for a fight, "did he send a note? Did he give you a message for me? _Anything?_"

Gwen was silent.

"Why are you fighting for him?" Merlin shot down at her. The wind was angry up here; up here the wind didn't whisper.

"I'm not…I just…I haven't…I don't know what to think, I just wanted you to…"

"I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you Gwen," Merlin said with a sort of angry repentance, "I shouldn't have snapped."

Merlin said sorry. He said sorry every day of his life. Every day of his life was an apology to the law he broke, to the people he failed. He said sorry at every turn, he asked forgiveness where ever he could, and what had it gotten him?

A knife to the throat.

Fat lot of good _forgiveness _turned out to be.

"It's just…no matter what apology he says…" Merlin stood up, balancing on the branch using magic, "it was deliberate, pre-meditated..cold-blooded."

"He wasn't…he only want to…"

"He _only _wanted to do what? _Hurt me_? Is that the only comfort there is? He was going to bleed me Gwen, he was going to bleed me until I was helpless, then just like in the throne room he would've stood to one side, let his father kill me, then felt oh so remorseful afterwards," the sarcasm cut his tongue.

"If he was truly remorseful, if he really knew what he was doing was _wrong_ he would've realised after days of planning. But he didn't. Any vow of goodness he makes comes off days, no, a _life _of bad. I can't…I can't trust any apology he says, because deep down he will not have changed."

"Merlin, please…"

"If all you have to say is that I should forgive him and come back, you should go Gwen," Merlin's voice was sad and sorry…but strong.

He was strong.

Or at least…he was trying to be.

"Merlin..."

"I won't come back Gwen. I can't ever go back to Camelot."

And Merlin teleported away, stepping from the branch into mid-air and nothingness, fleeing Gwen's wounded expression.


	16. Chapter 16: Survival

**Hey everyone, **

**How's it going?**

**I don't have much to say today, I've been rather busy and need to just relax. Thought I'd post this first though, so here's another chapter **

**Hope you like it.**

**Chapter 16: Survival. **

::Arthur::

Arthur was surprised when Gwen and Gaius arrived back in Camelot three days after they had left. As he walked, okay jogged, from the battlements to the courtyard to meet them he realized that as one way it was a day long journey they must've spent only one night and day in Ealdor, needing to have left at night in order to arrive in Camelot when they did, morning.

He nearly missed a step going downstairs.

Why had they been so quick?

He'd expected them to be gone for days.

To be honest, he had expected them to be gone for good.

His heart skipped a beat, then another, when Arthur wondered if their early return meant that there had been nobody to see…if Merlin was dead after all.

No, that couldn't be true!

Kilgarrah said…

No!

Arthur flew down the front steps to meet them where a stable girl was leading away their cart horse and servants were already taking away their luggage.

"You're back early," he said, catching his breath.

(Really, as a King he had to stop running around the castle like parts of it were on fire. When they weren't, that was. With a resident dragon there was a good chance he would actually have to run around because his castle was on fire at some stage in the future.)

Before they could respond he continued,

"Merlin? Is he okay?"

"What? Yes sire," Gaius looked tired and a little taken aback by Arthur's earnestness.

"Then why are you back so early?" Arthur demanded.

Surely Gaius' and Gwen wouldn't have pulled a joke as cruel as pretending Merlin was alive on him?

But after what he'd done…maybe he deserved cruelty.

His heart felt small.

"He didn't…" Gaius began before stopping to look at Gwen.

She took over.

"Too many people around made him feel uncomfortable. He was still gaining his strength back and an audience made him feel…self-conscious."

Arthur had the horrible image of Merlin unsteadily walking around a damp cabin, reaching one long-fingered hand out to catch his balance momentarily on a chair, all alone.

But no, Hunith was with him, he wasn't alone.

He was just miles away from Arthur.

"Sire, I need to return to my quarters, I have patients," Gaius grumbled and without further ado walked off.

Arthur's 'Good to see you Gaius,' trailed off as he watched the old man leave. He looked back around to where Gwen stood.

"Let's go somewhere a little more…" Arthur didn't say 'private,' it would sound much too intimate.

However Gwen seemed to understand and walked with him to the throne room, which cleared of people at Arthur's command.

They stood just inside the doors determinedly not looking at the place where Merlin had had his throat cut. Arthur felt off-balance.

"Was he…" Arthur stopped speaking again.

He wasn't sure why this time. He just couldn't as if Merlin was okay.

"So did he…seem like he might, I don't know, consider coming back?" Arthur asked after a moment, looking down at his feet (he did a lot of that recently.)

Gwen sighed, shoulders slumping.

"He…he said he wouldn't."

"Oh."

Arthur had prepared himself for this; he'd known it was the most likely outcome.

So why was he surprised?

"Not…I mean…indefinitely?" He said, looking Gwen in the eye.

"His exact words were 'I can't ever go back to Camelot,'" Gwen replied apologetically.

"Ever?" Arthur said, voice hitching.

Gwen nodded.

"Did you…does he know about the changes in the law?"

"Yes."

"Does he know about Kilgarrah? Their friends, surely he wouldn't think Kilgarrah would go somewhere that wasn't worth…" wasn't worth what?

Why did conversations with Gwen unhinge him?

Why did conversations about Merlin uncoil some of the control he had over himself?

"He knows, Arthur, he knows everything. He just…" Now it was Gwen who couldn't finish her sentence.

This appeared to be a conversation made up entirely of aborted sentences.

"Did you tell him I was…sorry?"

Arthur knew he hadn't told Gaius and Gwen to take a message, a fact he now regretted, but he also knew that they had heard him say sorry enough recently to have told Merlin.

Maybe.

"Yes," Gwen said, looking away.

For some reason that word seemed to cost her something so Arthur didn't press her for an explanation. After a moment she continued,

"It didn't seem to mean much to him. What with the…uh…what did he say…'pre-meditated' nature of it all."

'Pre-meditated' was such a formal sounding conviction that though he couldn't deny its accuracy Arthur couldn't imagine Merlin's mouth shaping the word.

"He seemed to think that…if you were truly remorseful you wouldn't have gone through with it in the first place, you would've back out after a few days of…deceiving him," Gwen looked back at Arthur, expression half way between angry and understanding.

"But…remorseful…by definition it can only come after the…thing," Arthur said, feeling like something was creeping up behind him.

"He meant more…genuine understanding that what you did was wrong, I think," Gwen's eyes flicked to the wall as she thought, un-focusing as she found the words within herself.

"If you really believed what…that is, Merlin thinks that if you could believe what you did was wrong you would've stopped after days of thinking about it, it wouldn't have needed…you wouldn't have needed Merlin having his…almost dying in order to realise it was wrong."

"Oh," Arthur stepped back, chin coming down, feeling like he was crumbling into himself, "oh."

He understood what Gwen was saying, he understood what Merlin was thinking, thinking about him. Merlin was out there in the world and there was no way Arthur could prove he had changed.

"I'm sorry Arthur," Gwen said after a moment; she sounded genuine.

Arthur had _expected _this; he had known he didn't deserve forgiveness…but…

"No, no no, it's okay, don't you apologize Gwen, no," he said softly, stepping backwards again.

He closed his eyes, the image of Merlin, hand to bleeding throat, eyes wide and looking at Arthur as though he couldn't quite believe what had been done to him, flashed behind his eyelids.

Arthur's eyes opened.

Gwen was watching him with something like concern on her face.

"I guess…I was just hoping…"

"Yeah," she agreed, helping him when he couldn't find the words, "we all did."

::Merlin::

Every day since waking up Merlin made a point to visit the cow whose blood had kept him alive until Kilgarrah came and the calf who had missed out on its first milk. The farmer was hesitant to allow Merlin in, but oddly enough when he saw the edges of Merlin's scar poking out above his neckerchief he stood aside.

Merlin had exchanged his bandages for his neckerchief now that he was leaving the house a little bit. He wasn't too keen on seeing people, but when he did he preferred to look less like the walking wounded.

The fact that Merlin had turned up in Ealdor, dying from some Camelot-inflicted wound, had done a lot to lessen the people's fear of him. He hadn't been a threat. Then Kilgarrah had then turned up and scared just about everyone half to death.

The villagers were now confused and scared of Merlin, but in a different way than they used to be. They weren't just scared of his power anymore; they were scared of his friends in high places.

But not just that…they pitied him. They pitied him despite themselves.

Merlin hated it, he hated the pity. However as the pity for him was probably the main thing stopping the villagers from driving Hunith and himself from town with pitchforks and torches, he let the itch remain. It would not be he that had Hunith driven from Ealdor.

Every day since waking up Merlin also felt his magic growing. He regained his former physical strength but his magic pushed through its previous boundaries, swelling and expanding like a massive cumulous cloud in the distance. Strangely Merlin felt no need to siphon off the excess, the seemingly limitless energy thrummed through his veins happily, as though he'd been empty before without knowing it.

He supposed some of it was from the magic in Kilgarrah's blood, but for the rest of the excess magic…maybe near death had shocked Emrys to the surface.

Maybe it had taken attempted murder to make Merlin realise it wasn't his own power he should fear.

Merlin ducked into the stall containing the cow and her calf. Usually this would be a Bad Idea, with a capitol Imminent Death, but the cow recognized his soothing magic and stood quietly. The calf gambled over to him and, with a laugh inside his chest, Merlin held it back from sucking on his nose.

He'd been pouring his strength into the calf the moment he'd been strong enough to do so. It was still small and had a bit of a runny nose, but it was _alive. _

As alive as him.

Merlin's head flinched and banged on the stall door, making the cow flick her ears.

Don't think about it Merlin. Think about this little calf, think about the kind mother cow, think about how the mother saved you and you healed her calf, don't think about dying.

His eyes were closed, holding in tears, holding in sadness. Merlin jumped when something big and soft bumped his head. He looked up; the cow had come over to drool on his head.

Crying and smiling Merlin reached up and put his hand to her big soft ear, scratching the soft fur she couldn't reach, feeling everything he had lost, feeling the calf begin to suck on his fingers, feeling everything.

Feeling nothing at all.

::Arthur::

It was only that night that Arthur realised he'd been planning all day.

He found himself standing in the stables with Fallourn saddled and saddlebags lightly packed and realised what he intended to do, what he had been intending to do all day.

Arthur wasn't going to get Merlin. He was going to go and say 'sorry,' and that was it. Merlin didn't need to respond, Merlin didn't need to do anything at all, but Arthur _had _to do this. Apologising to Gwen and Gaius and Kilgarrah and the Knights wasn't enough, because they weren't the ones he had betrayed. Oh he had failed them, but it was Merlin whom he had _hurt_.

His heart faltered but he steeled himself.

He had done the wrong thing. No matter what happened tomorrow, no matter what he thought or did, he had to say sorry and he had to say it _now. _Even if Merlin didn't want it Arthur was insane for making him wait.

Arthur swung himself up onto Fallourn's back, the few torches throwing multiple menacing shadows of himself around him.

He hadn't told anyone where he was going. Arthur was counting on anonymity and speed to get him to Ealdor and back without Mordred or Morgana or worse, Gaius, noticing it was he fleeing through the night. He had instructed Kilgarrah to test his shields, hoping that if any enemies turned up they would be distracted by the fluctuating dragon magic and not notice the absence of the king. The only note he had left was on his desk, it said '_Gwen is in charge._' He hoped he would be back and able to throw it in a fire before anybody read it, Arthur really didn't want to be confronted with an angry, promoted-against-her-will Gwen, even though she had been the best person for the promotion.

A stable hand saw Arthur but as Arthur was wearing non-descript armour and a large cloak he looked like nothing more than a knight. They opened the stable doors for him and Arthur trotted Fallourn out, clattering across the stone streets and into the night.

Clouds kept covering and uncovering the moon, sending the bright night into occasional darkness. When this happened Arthur slowed Fallourn to a walk and trusted the horse to remain on the path, which he did. The ride was a few hours long and these forced walks turned out to be fortuitous, because Arthur and Fallourn did not stop to rest in Ealdor that night.

The road curved out of the cover of the trees and suddenly, appearing like a ghost town, Ealdor was laid out before Arthur. There were only a few lamps on and most of them were dim but the clouds had parted and the town was revealed in a faded blue light. Arthur had been to Ealdor before but he hadn't exactly memorized the place, so he walked Fallourn quietly down the main street trying to see if any of the houses sparked his memory.

None of the houses seemed familiar but one did give him pause. Arthur gave a gentle pull on the reins and Fallourn stopped in the house's shadow. The roof had more recent thatching then the others and there were marks on the ground. Arthur backed up Fallourn. They had been walked over and worn down, but there were no wheel-ruts, they were the gauge marks of dragon's claws.

Arthur looked back up at the house. Yes.

Hadn't Kilgarrah said he'd been to Ealdor to heal Merlin?

This had to be the house.

Arthur dismounted and dropped Fallourn's reins. Because he had been the prince's horse, and was now the king's, Fallourn had been very well trained. Though Arthur would hobble him most of the time for security Fallourn was trained to remain where he was when his reins were dropped. Not bothering with hobbles this time Arthur stepped away from his horse and towards the door, further into the house's shadow.

Then he paused.

Should he wait until morning? But he had to be in Camelot by morning!

Was Merlin's sleep more important than that?

Should Arthur be observing manners and etiquette, or was his apology more important?

Was his apology important at all?

Was he losing his courage?

If he waited would morning find him unable to do what he had to do?

Arthur was torn, fist raised to the door. Then some back part of his brain seemed to take over and he struck the door three times. The sound seemed to echo through the streets.

What would Arthur do if curious neighbours heard it?

Arthur, honed warrior senses even more sensitive in his strung out state, felt more then heard something stir inside the house. Heart thumping harder than it ever had when facing bandits Arthur knocked twice more, slightly quietly this time. He heard a murmur of voices. Was one of them Merlin?

Arthur felt sick.

A lamp flickered to life inside the house and footsteps approached the door. He fought the urge to run. Stay, you coward.

The door creaked open, revealing a tousle-haired Hunith holding a lamp in her hand.

She didn't say 'Arthur?' though she did look momentarily surprised, the key word being momentarily. After a heartbeat her expression turned to thunder.

"What are you doing here?" She said coldly.

Arthur sucked in a breath of cool night air.

"I came to apologize."

"In the middle of the night?"

There was an indistinct voice behind Hunith, she said 'Arthur,' over her shoulder.

Gaius and Gwen had told Merlin, and therefore Hunith probably knew by extension, that Arthur was king, but she gave no sign of it on her face. Arthur wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. He wanted to take full responsibility for what he had done, including the blame for taking advantage of being royalty, but he didn't want special treatment for being king.

When Hunith turned her face back to him Arthur realised he didn't have to worry about not getting any special treatment for being king.

"It's important," Arthur said, feeling a bit reduced.

Hunith turned her head again. Somewhere, unseen, Merlin was talking again. Arthur's heart beat and ached with emotions he couldn't identify or distinguish. He wanted to _see _Merlin, as if seeing him could make this right, somehow.

"Merlin doesn't want to see you," Hunith said, turning back again.

It felt like the pull of an old wound, familiar but painful all the same.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Arthur said, looking at the grain of the wood in the door.

Hunith just looked at him.

"I had to say it for myself," Arthur said, then, forced to by a tear in his heart, he yelled, "Merlin, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Unconsciously Arthur took a step forwards, but as soon as he did Hunith moved to block him, slipping out of the door. In one hand she held the lamp, in the other hand she held a carving knife, which she raised in front of Arthur's chest.

"You should leave, Arthur Pendragon," she said.

There was no threat in her voice, only the steady tone of somebody who would do what they had to do to protect their family.

Arthur stepped back, startled and dismayed.

Did she think this was an attempt to get at Merlin?

Did she think Arthur had replaced his father's assassin with himself?

"Don't…mother!"

It was Merlin's voice, _Merlin's voice_.

Merlin whipped through the door not like a sleek, slippery cat but like a stray dog that knew all the tricks. His hair was skewed on the left, he must've been sleeping on that side, and his clothes seemed too big for him. As Arthur stepped back, giving both Merlin and his mother room, he noticed that even accounting for the pale moon's light Merlin's face was drained of colour, like the life had been leached out of him.

"You _get back_," Merlin said, hackles raised, eyes like burnished metal.

Both of his last two words were accompanied by what felt like a shove to Arthur's chest. Arthur staggered but didn't care, because Merlin was alive (his heart leapt) and Merlin _hated _him (he had no heart left.)

"Merlin I'm sorry," Arthur said, almost retreating into Fallourn, "I know I can't say anything that could fi-"

"No, you can't, stay away from her," Merlin snarled, getting between Arthur and Hunith.

Arthur went to say something else, to reason maybe, to beg, but held himself in. He _hadn't _come to force himself on Merlin. There was no fact or figure Arthur could provide that Gaius and Gwen hadn't told him.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said, now apologizing for disturbing them, for making Merlin feel threatened.

"I'm going, I'm sorry Merlin, I'm so, so sorry," now he just meant for everything.

Arthur could see that Merlin was shaking, but it was the wobbly shake of somebody who was too cold or about to fall down.

It was the shake of somebody barely controlling themselves from doing something terrible.

It was the shake of somebody who had some terrible already inside them.

Arthur turned, feeling sick and sorry, and looped Fallourn's reins over the horse's head before vaulting onto his back.

He couldn't bring himself to move off; he couldn't stop himself from looking back.

"Go Arthur, and don't come back," Merlin snarled.

One of his hands was splayed before Hunith as though worried Arthur would try to duck around him to her. The other was a fist angled across his body, ready to deflect a blow.

"I forgave you the first time you tried to cut my throat. You squandered your second chances when you tried again. Your forgiveness was a lie and even before it, when you were being honest, all you did was try to hurt me. Get out of here, Arthur."

Merlin's eyes flared from their simmering bronze to bright gold and Fallourn jerked with alarm, like his herd had left without him, and moved off at choppy canter. Arthur turned away from Hunith and Merlin, seating himself properly. Fallourn paid no heed to Arthur's hands on the reins or the shifting of his weight and startled at many nothings, slowing only when they were nearly back in the trees. Blowing heavily from his nostrils as though he'd raced a great distance Fallourn slowed to a walk then and Arthur took his chance to look back.

The lamp was gone so Hunith must've gone back inside, but Arthur was sure he could pick out a dark figure hidden in the houses shadow.

Merlin.

_I'm sorry Merlin,_ Arthur's heart ached back to the town, _I'm so, so sorry_.

Fallourn gave another start like he had in town and Arthur looked away from the Merlin-shadow to steady his horse.

When he looked back up, just as Fallourn stepped into the trees, Arthur saw that the shadow was gone.


	17. Chapter 17: Mordred, Morgana and the

**G'day lads and lasses**

**The adventure continues. And by adventure I mean me trying to keep up writing this story with uploading it. Though I guess I could mean this story…**

**I've been so busy recently! Doing things! Busy things.**

**I've also been hard pressed finding time to write this thing, as I have another writing project underway at the moment. It's okay though, that one has to be done by Monday, after that I'll be free to right 'Until Forever Ends' until it actually ends. **

**Apart from all the uni assignments…**

**But…bah, who needs sleep anyway?**

**Not me!**

**(That was a lie, I totally need a tonne of sleep.)**

**Random awesome song: The feel again (stay) by Blue October watch?v=0Vs6tQKm5Eg**

**Beautiful and a tragic. I've been listening to this a lot whilst writing my other project but it can apply to Until Forever Ends as well. I love music I can imagine to. I mean, I spend 9 hours a week on trains going to and from uni, what else am I going to do? **

**Homework? Bah, I don't think so.  
**

**Anyway, hope you are all good.**

**On with the show!**

**(Ah! Trying to upload it and it won't let me enter the full chapter title into the place where you enter the chapter title. Damn it, why?)**

**(Ahem, sorry, on with the show.)**

**(But it's ruining my system!)**

**(Okay, sorry, I'm done now.)**

**Chapter 17: ****Mordred, Morgana and the White Dragon**

**::Hunith::**

After Arthur had arrived and left the night before Merlin didn't speak. Hunith had tried to talk to him but her son had not responded, he'd just gone back the bed on the floor (having insisted Hunith return to her bed now that he was healing.)

Even though her bed was the more comfortable than the floor Hunith lay awake for longer than Merlin. She was tensed, listening, alert for the smallest sign that Arthur had come back. As it turned out it was a good thing she was awake because if she'd been sleeping she wouldn't have heard Merlin's dreams turn to nightmares.

Lying in the darkness Hunith had heard Merlin's breathing quicken. She rolled onto her side so that she could see, in the shadows of the room, the vague shape of Merlin moving restlessly. He'd audibly gritted his teeth and exhaled sharply from his noise.

Hunith had reached out, leaning over the side of the bed, and touched her hand to Merlin's shoulder. Beneath her hand his skin twitched not with shivers but with the listless flinch of somebody too tired to escape horrible torment. Hunith had rubbed her thumb into his shoulder and whispered his name to him, whispered that it was okay. After a moment that went on for far too long he had stopped moving and settled back to sleep.

Hunith lay away the whole night just in case Merlin needed her again, but whilst she could comfort him when he was asleep the moment he'd woken up Merlin had fled the house.

Hunith wondered if Merlin remembered what he'd dreamt and if his dreams were memories.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur slunk back into the castle, dawn prickling his back. He tossed Fallourn's reins to the stable boy from earlier who seemed very confused, trying to reconcile the knight who had left with the King he saw returning. He passed a few servants on his way to his quarters but distracted them from his dirty travelling clothes with demands of food. Arthur then strategically fell back (a.k.a retreated) to his room to strategize (a.k.a lick his wounds.)

He hadn't expected Merlin to come back…he hadn't.

He kept telling himself that, even as disappointment and an ashamed sort of horror crashed through him in waves.

Still holding his saddlebags in one hand, being incognito involved doing one's own packing, Arthur pushed open his door, eyes wearily on his feet, locked it, turned, and came face to face with Gwaine.

"GWAINE!" Arthur yelled, somewhat unnecessarily, thumping back on his door and putting his hand to the hilt of his sword.

Gwaine clutched his ear dramatically at Arthur's shout.

"Stop…don't do that," Arthur said in an angry gasp, pushing off from his door and making sure to shove into Gwaine on his way past him to his desk.

"I didn't ask you to wake half the castle," Gwaine said, taking the shove without comment and spinning on his heel to watch Arthur pass.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, hoping Gwaine wasn't resuming his leaning-on-a-wall-of-the-room-Arthur-was-in-to-try -and-stare-him-down.

"The real question," Gwaine said, sauntering slowly forwards (Arthur decided on the spot that the only person allowed to saunter in his bedchambers was himself,) "Is what were you doing _not _here?"

"I was out," Arthur said shortly, "doing…things."

"Outside of the city?" Gwaine said, looking around for a suitable place to lounge indolently.

Putting his saddlebags on his table Arthur shot Gwaine an angry questioning sort of look.

"Kilgarrah told me you left," Gwaine explained, "and when he called me he actually did wake half the castle."

"And Kilgarrah didn't share with you where I went?"

"He either didn't know or didn't say. So, where did you go?"

"I don't see how it's any of your business," Arthur snapped, putting the extra food he'd wanted to give to Hunith onto his table, blocking it from Gwaine's view with his body.

"Merlin's my friend, of course it's my business," Gwaine said, leaning against one of the bed posts.

"It sounds like you've already decided where I went."

"Well, where else would you go?"

Arthur paused in unpacking but didn't answer.

"I take it then that it didn't go down so well?"

"What makes you say that?" Arthur resumed unpacking.

"Because you are such a little ray of sunshine," Gwaine gestured at Arthur as though proving a point.

Arthur took his bundle of spare clothes and pushed them haphazardly into a cupboard, a sleeve flopping out just as he closed the door. He opened it again and poked the sleeve back in.

"You went and apologized," Gwaine stated this as fact but his shrewd tone desire confirmation.

"Yes," Arthur admitted.

Turning away from his cupboard Arthur was surprised to see that Gwaine had moved to the door. Looking back at him with a serious expression Gwaine nodded once and left.

Arthur leant against his desk, not sure of what to make of the exchange.

He wondered if Gwaine had guessed that Merlin wasn't coming back.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin's feet were bare and his eyes were closed as he walked through the woodland, lit by the morning sun. His brow was slightly furrowed with concentration as he navigated the trees by sensing them with his magic. Every now and then he would let his hands trail across the trunks, saying hello and giving his respect. The trees didn't reply but he could hear them listening, could feel the wind following him.

His head tilted to one side and he hesitated mid-step. A moment later a flock of birds wheeled overhead, chattering and singing to themselves. For a moment Merlin's mind skimmed the surface of his thoughts and the birds stopped singing, but he forced himself to continue on, focusing on his senses, not his feelings, and the birds sang again.

The trees whispered disapprovingly, they felt him avoiding himself, turning his nature away from his nature.

Merlin was unbalanced, disrupted, incomplete.

He opened his eyes. The woods were green with life and gold with sun. He looked back the way he had come and saw a word on every tree he had touched, every footprint he had left. The word was not engraved into the bark or the skin of the earth but written in a gentle, golden light that was his magic.

The word was 'Why?'

Merlin looked at the ground where the word was written beneath his feet. With an angry snarl like a startled wolf Merlin leapt out of his footprints and simultaneously every word marking his trail went out.

Moving away from his former trail Merlin proceeded further into the forest thinking nothing, feeling nothing. Certainly not grief.

**::Gwen::**

Unable after all that had happened to return to her post as servant yet unwilling to accept any higher roles offered to her by Arthur, and despite Gwen slowly coming to understand Arthur again, Gwen was at a bit of a loss as to what to do with herself. She wanted to be productive but she didn't want to be under anybody's heel, her years as a servant to cruel masters had taught her to be wary. Her servant's wages hadn't been discontinued and because Gwen wasn't willing to live on others sufferance she tried to make her own kind of contribution to castle life. She did this mainly by helping out Gaius. When Gaius had been reinstated as Court Physician he'd had a lot of patients to catch up with, but even after he'd made up for lost time he had a lot to do. With Merlin now absent Gwen stepped in and was surprised by the amount of work Merlin had done for Gaius out of the goodness of his heart. There was collecting herbs, grinding them up, making certain pastes, writing out instructions as to how and when to take medicines and distributing these medicines. Gaius distributed some of his medicines himself on his rounds but he was mostly kept busy with a constant stream of ailments and illnesses coming to a temporary physicians station he'd set up in a spare room.

Gwen paused for a rest in one of the second floor corridors after giving a Lady her prescription. Whilst she felt the good kind of tired, the tired of productivity, she made a mental note to tell Arthur Gaius needed not just an apprentice but a colleague. Things would only become more difficult as he aged and he really shouldn't have to spend years training a new physician before he was allowed to retire.

"Hello Lady Guinevere the whichever-number-Guinevere-you-are."

Gwen looked around.

Gwaine was making his way along the corridor looking carefully careless.

"Sir Gwaine," she said with a polite nod.

They'd seen each other around, though mostly before…well…_everything_ that had happened, but not to the point where Gwen felt as free talking with Gwaine as Gwaine apparently felt talking to her.

Gwaine winced at the 'Sir' and waved his hand.

"Just Gwaine, my lady, just Gwaine."

"Well," Gwen said, slightly amused, "then you must call me Gwen and not 'my lady' or 'Guinevere the whichever-number-Guinevere-you-are.'"

"But that is my charming wit in action," Gwaine said, placing a stricken hand to his chest.

Gwen raised her eyebrows. She had heard of the way he had confronted Arthur and quit his post as knight then accepted a position in the ranks that would allow him to place a check on the king's military power.

(What Arthur had done, what he had given up, had not escaped Gwen's notice.)

"I'm sure you'll find other ways to be charming," Gwen said before she could stop herself, and then prayed that Gwaine didn't think she was _flirting _with him.

He was a nice fellow but she wasn't really the 'alcoholic who occasionally said something sarcastic' type.

"That I will," Gwaine said with laughter in his eyes, looking at Gwen almost as if he had read her thoughts on her face, "But as much as I would like to stay here and exchange witticisms, I did have a reason for finding you."

"You were looking for me?" Gwen said, surprised.

She had assumed that Gwaine had come over and started talking because he couldn't help himself; a well-known fact about Gwaine was that when he saw something that breathed he talked compulsively.

"Yes, I just came from seeing our Princely-King and thought you might want to know that he spent most of the night on a horse charging to and from Ealdor."

"He went to Ealdor?" Gwen said, even more surprised.

"Don't worry, Gwen my love, he did not take an entourage of soldiers. He went alone to apologize to Merlin. Didn't go very well, but I thought you'd be interested to know anyway."

Gwen could think of nothing to say as she processed this startling piece of news. With a flash of a grin Gwaine walked passed, clapped her once on the shoulder like he would a fellow knight, impropriety be damned, and swaggered off.

Gwen immediately hurried off to find Gaius and tell him. It was only when she was half way to Gaius' quarters that she realised when Gwaine had said that Arthur had gone to Ealdor it hadn't actually crossed her mind that he would go there to hurt Merlin. She had instantly thought, she had _known_, that he would've gone for honourable reasons.

Walking quickly through the castle she wondered if she was forgiving Arthur.

A small but present part of her wondered if she hadn't already done so, traitorous as that thought might be.

**::Hunith::**

Hunith found Merlin in the first place she looked. He was sitting on a rocky outcrop overlooking a small pool he and Will had used to play in. It was more of an eddy off the corner of a stream but the reeds made it look like a separate body of water.

Merlin and Will had always thought they were so clever sneaking off; neither of them had realised that in their early years, when they were only little boys, their parents took it in turns to follow them to make sure they were safe.

Looking at Merlin now, a tall adolescent bordering on adulthood, Hunith could only feel a stab of anguish and anger that when he had needed her most she hadn't been there. When Merlin had been in the direst of dangers, she hadn't felt a twinge of worry or anything. The first she had known about Merlin's trouble was when she saw him, mortally wounded, in her house.

What sort of mother was she? That she had not sensed his need?

But these questions couldn't be answered and asking them would not help.

Merlin's legs were tucked up and his arms were around them with his chin resting on his knees. He was staring moodily into the pool and whilst he didn't look around at Hunith's approach his lack of surprise when she sat down next to him made her think he'd felt her coming with his magic.

"Breakfast," she said softly, holding up a roll she'd spread with some of the butter she'd bought from one of the neighbours.

"Well, late breakfast…or an early lunch."

Hunith saw Merlin's eyes flick around to look at the proffered roll but he didn't take it.

"You need to eat, Merlin," she said gently, "you're still recovering."

"Don't feel like eating," he said, flicking a stone into the pool with a flash of golden eyes.

"No," Hunith said, "I don't suppose you do."

She leant against him.

Merlin, who'd been alienated from Ealdor the moment he discovered who he was, leant back against her; all physical contact and trust. Merlin would open up in his own time, Hunith knew this, so for the time she was there for him, offering him anything he needed, even if it was her silence.

"Gaius and Gwen sounded like I was supposed to have forgiven Arthur already," Merlin said quietly. "Just because Uther died and Arthur changed the law…like that changes what happened…"

Hunith focused, catching every word, knowing he wouldn't repeat himself if she missed it.

"After last night…maybe he'll think that too…"

Merlin, seemingly without realising what he was doing, rubbed his throat.

"Gaius and Gwen are smart; they'll know you need time," Hunith said.

Merlin looked across at her, a question in his eyes.

"And if Arthur meant what he said, if he is truly sorry, he will also realise what he did requires time to recover from, and that forgiveness will also come in time."

"How can I?" Merlin sighed with a slight hitch, "How can I ever trust him again when he deliberately used my trust to…to do this…" He made a single cutting gesture at his throat, eyes half closing with the memory of the real thing.

Hunith thought for a moment.

"I guess that it was trust is," she said eventually, "having faith that someone will not hurt you even though they may have in the past."

"But this," Merlin stood and Hunith followed him up, "this isn't about…about fear or stubbornness. This is about the basic fact that Arthur deliberately manipulated my trust. How am I supposed to react to that? How am I supposed to trust him _ever _again when he might just be getting ready to use it against me?"

"People are capable of remorse over the most horrific things," Hunith said.

"If people were truly good and trustworthy they wouldn't do horrific things in the first place," Merlin snapped.

Hunith sighed.

"That's why remorse exists, because good people make mistakes."

Merlin scowled and kicked a stone into the pool. The stone landed in the water with a depressingly heavy _sploosh_.

"Mistakes? All I ever did was save him. Look at how he thanked me. Some king he's going to be."

Merlin scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, then turned it over and rubbed his eyes with his palm.

"He did change the laws on magic," Hunith said tentatively, wanting to point this out whilst not wanting Merlin to feel pressured from her as well as Gaius and Gwen.

"Anyone can backtrack with a guilty conscience," Merlin said bitterly.

"Yes, but not everyone can admit they are wrong."

Merlin sighed.

"I just need-"

But Hunith would never hear what Merlin needed because his sentence aborted mid-way and his head snapped up and around.

He stood, frozen, eyes fixed on nothing, seeming to be listening with everything he had.

"Merlin?" She said, alarmed.

He breathed in raggedly and shook his head then froze, listening again.

"Something's wrong," he said in a rough voice.

"What? What do you mean?" She said, stepping closer but not touching him, not wanting to distract him.

"Something's wrong," he repeated, eyes focusing and unfocusing in a minute but very alarming way, "Something's wrong in Camelot."

**::Arthur::**

Arthur was checking stocks in the armoury. Really he should've delegated this job but he didn't have a head for policies or statistics today. The familiar smell of wood and metal, the soft glow of polished armour and the distant sound of training knights and squires comforted him, grounded him. There was a servant checking things off after he inspected them but they were keeping the dreaded paperwork out of his line of sight, so it was okay.

At least, until a distant but increasingly familiar roar rang out.

Arthur's head snapped up to look at the roof.

Kilgarrah.

He had a sword he had been admiring in his hands. As the roar died and was overlapped by a second cry Arthur span for the door, going to sheath the sword before realising his actual sword was in its scabbard. Arthur threw the spare away; handle first, to the servant, forgetting they were not a trained knight. As he sped out of the armoury and into the blazing sunlight he heard the crash of the sword hitting the floor. For once he welcomed the sound, it was that or a yell of pain as the servant tried, and failed, to catch the sword he had thoughtlessly thrown at them.

But these thoughts were driven away because when he looked up, up; up he saw an explosion of golden light as unnatural green fire appeared out of nowhere.

Aithusa, Mordred and Morgana flashed by, close enough for Arthur see the boy and woman on the dragon's back.

Kilgarrah roared again and Aithusa responded with an insane screech that echoed through the castle.

Arthur looked down and sprinted to the tower that lead up to Kilgarrah's section of wall.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen nearly sliced her finger off in surprise when a distant sound vibrated through the castle. She lifted the knife warily, keeping it clear of herself, and looked around at Gaius.

"What was that?" She gasped as the roar evolved into a shriek.

"Kilg-" Gaius started, herbs dropped all over his front.

A _boom _interrupted him and the very walls shivered around them.

"Mordred," Gaius finished, changing direction mid-word.

He then added, "We're under attack," somewhat unnecessarily.

"Arthur," Gwen breathed, knowing that the goal of any attack would involve Arthur's death.

She stepped towards the door, sharp herb knife changing in her mind from a tool to a weapon.

"Gwen, no! What could you possibly do?" Gaius cried from behind her, but Gwen didn't turn back.

As Gwen raced through the castle it shuddered around her in the absence of its defender.

**::Arthur::**

Unsurprisingly Kilgarrah had taken off by the time Arthur reached the wall. Beneath him knights were running to and fro to the sound of Gwaine and Leon's orders. Arthur was stricken by their courage, rallying to fight an enemy they couldn't even reach.

The nobles and castle staff were also running to and fro, but with much less purpose and much more screaming.

As Kilgarrah had flown upwards his shield had risen with him; apparently it was projected to a fixed distance from himself. Anxiously Arthur watched him fly; knowing all too well that the sword in his hand would be next to useless if Kilgarrah's defences broke.

Aithusa screamed again, sparkling like shimmering snow. Her voice could've cut glass. Whilst Kilgarrah's was filled with passion and rage, Aithusa's voice betrayed the madness of her mind.

"Come on, come on," Arthur said, not knowing why or what for.

The hairs along his neck stood on end when the distant sound of Mordred's terrible, childish laughter fell upon the castle.

For them to hear it from so far away Mordred must have magically amplified his voice.

He _wanted _them to hear his laughter.

He _wanted _them to be afraid.

And Arthur was _helpless_.

His castle was _helpless._

_Damn _him, _damn _his father.

Why had they driven Merlin away?

Kilgarrah swung around in mid-air and swooped back low over the castle, his voice swinging slightly after him. As the dragon flew low overhead his shadow rushed over Arthur; Arthur could see the veins in the skin of his wings for a fraction of a moment.

Then he was away, wheeling upwards, flying to meet Aithusa head on.

There was Morgana's voice, shrieking out something awful. That something awful turned solid in the air and a blinding flash of purple-red light darted towards Kilgarrah. Arthur winced for the old dragon but Kilgarrah shrugged it away.

It was human magic, Arthur remembered Kilgarrah saying he could block it.

It was dragon magic he had to worry-  
Aithusa _spat_.

A tiny bead of light shot towards Kilgarrah, who faced it head on, breathing fire.

The dart of magic exploded; rocking Kilgarrah like a storm rocks a mighty ship.

Flight path wobbling and peeling away from the smaller dragon, Kilgarrah roared not in whatever dragon language he had spoken in, but in human profanity.

Arthur fought a mad urge to laugh.

Kilgarrah flared his wings and swept up to fly parallel to Aithusa. Golden light swept from him, like a blazing image of himself, and bore down onto the white dragon. Arthur's breath caught, a wordless, senseless worry for Morgana beating once with his heart, before the golden light shattered upon the smaller dragon's shield.

The clash of magic was so bright Arthur looked away. Over the wall he saw the knights lining the square, ready to fight the unreachable enemy, ready to fight the unbeatable foe. Arthur saw Gwaine, who was standing with a hand above his eyes, squinting into the battle.

Again, Arthur had a mad urge to laugh. Gwaine had balanced his sword on the stone floor and had rested his hand on the pommel, watching the fight through squinted eyes, one leg crooked lazily over the other like a horse sleeping standing up. For some reason Gwaine careless bravado made Arthur feel a sudden surge of confidence that promoting him had been the right thing to do.

This observation had taken but a second and, as the flash of light died, Arthur looked back towards the battle.

Aithusa was bearing down on Kilgarrah breathing fire and Arthur could see the golden dragon's magical shields being peeled back like skin by the combined efforts of Aithusa, Mordred and Morgana. Kilgarrah writhed in the air and roared heat and light at Aithusa.

Both dragons flew into each other's flames.

The shrieks set Arthur's teeth on edge and he heard yells of terror rise in response from within the castle and the city.

Camelot was united, watching the battle above.

At one with terror.

Kilgarrah and Aithusa swept away from each other. Aithusa was shrieking and shrieking, a huge black mark along her belly. Mordred and Morgana were still on her back; they must've protected themselves with magic but not the dragon they rode. Arthur felt a nonsensical pity for one of those who was attacking his castle.

Kilgarrah had taken the blast hard on his shoulder, making his flight path worrisome, declining, unsure. His head was swinging and his golden scales were scorched black along his shoulder and the side of his neck. The dragon swung around in another of his endless protective circles and looked straight at Arthur.

Arthur understood the look.

Kilgarrah couldn't win this.

Looking away from the King, Kilgarrah beat his wings with the great _woomph_ that reverberated through Arthur's ears just as it always did and gallantly, with the bravery of the greatest knight, rose to meet Aithusa again.

But Aithusa, Mordred and Morgana were coordinated now and once again the trio broke Kilgarrah's defences as Aithusa attacked, this time with fire _and _magic. Kilgarrah's flames went awry as one wing crumpled beneath him, hit by the white dragon's spell, and Aithusa's fire licked his shoulders again.

Kilgarrah plummeted.

Arthur threw himself against the wall, the light armour he had put on earlier for training ringing as it struck the stone.

"Kilgarrah!" He yelled with all his might; he knew the power of a name in battle.

He knew how it gave one courage, how it reminded the fighter what, who, they were fighting for.

"Kilgarrah!" He yelled again, then three times in his mind,

_Merlin. Merlin. Merlin._

Forgive me.

(Save us.)

(Save my people.)

(_Please_.)

At the last second, when it seemed sure that Kilgarrah must plough into the city, killing more with his bulk then Mordred and Morgana could with their spells, the dragon's wings opened. The taut skin billowed; he skimmed the air, _just _missing the rooftops.

Then Kilgarrah twisted, rose again despite his injuries and screamed "Parasite!" before flinging himself once more at Aithusa.

Arthur remembered wondering what two dragons fighting in mid-air would look like.

Well, now he knew.

And he would never forget.

It was brutal and terrifying. Both dragon's fell from the sky, abandoning the safety of flight in favour of the single-minded goal of killingthe other.

Aithusa bit and bit and bit, tearing at the dragon much bigger than she. Kilgarrah took the lacerations and bite marks without attempts to guard himself, focused only on trying to catch the smaller beast.

He missed.

He missed again.

He caught her!

The sound Aithusa made!

Kilgarrah's jaws completely encompassed her neck and he surely would've broken her neck if not for Mordred.

Sitting on Aithusa's back an arm's length from Kilgarrah's murderous head the boy grabbed a dagger from his side and stabbed it hilt deep straight into the eye of the Great Dragon.

Kilgarrah screamed, Aithusa wrenching her bleeding neck from his teeth as he yelled. Reeling away, dagger deep in his bleeding left eye, Kilgarrah flung out his wings, falling again. He flapped, trying to arrest his descent, but the pain had made him disoriented and he couldn't coordinate his wings.

"Kilgarrah," Arthur said, but this time his tongue was locked and his word barely made it out.

Aithusa peeled away from the falling dragon and Arthur could hear Mordred laughing again as Kilgarrah's head swayed and he desperately tried to land without killing anyone.

He was coming straight for the castle, claws out and scrabbling and Arthur had half a second to throw himself to the side, into the walls' tower. From the stairwell Arthur heard the enormous noise of a falling mountain and the stone of the tower changed shape around him. For a hysterical moment Arthur flung out his hands, terrified the walls would snap shut and the castle would swallow him alive.

It didn't, Camelot spared him for now, so he kept running, arms out just in case, as if they could do anything.

**::Gwen::**

"Arthur!"

Gwen had watched the whole, terrible thing and was sure Arthur must've been killed as Kilgarrah slammed into the castle. The knights in the square were taking shelter, Gwaine was yelling, stones were raining down upon them as Kilgarrah fumbled for purchase.

For a dizzying moment Kilgarrah's head swung above them, blood spattering down like the horrible blood rain mentioned in myths and legends, then he pulled his head back and found his balance.

Flinging her hands over her head and catching palm-fulls of blood before it could fall onto her face Gwen ran to the towers entrance. The thick wooden door with iron supports had buckled.

"Arthur!" She yelled and tried to wrench the door open.

The door had changed shape so much it stuck but with a growl that would've made a bandit proud Gwen prised it open. Staggering down the stairs into view, covered in dust, sword in hand, was a very dishevelled looking King.

"Arthur!" Gwen yelled, this time in a tone of sobbing relief, and pulled a very shocked Arthur into her arms.

It was the first time she had hugged him since Merlin's attempted-murder and it took her a moment to remember how. Arthur was reeling, confused, but then he realised what was happening mashed his face against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry Gwen, I'm _sorry_. I never wanted this to happen, I'm, I was an idiot, I'm sorry about Merlin, I'm sorry about my father, I'm sorry about _me_, I-"

"It's okay, Arthur," Gwen said, her face inches from his, toes dancing on the floor as he half lifted her in his arms, "I know."

Those words took the strength from him and Gwen was put back on her feet. Now she was the one holding up Arthur. She ran her thumbs across his face, wiping away the grime. Gwen touched her forehead to his.

This wasn't a moment for kissing or gushing or crying; this was a moment for knowing.

Knowinghe was sorry.

And forgiving him.

"I forgive you," she whispered, eyes closed.

Arthur shivered.

They breathed against each other for a moment, holding each other up, knowing each other, then there was an insane scream, whether dragon or human they couldn't tell, and as one they turned to the courtyards door and ran together towards catastrophe.

**::Arthur::**

Mordred and Morgana had leapt from Aithusa's back as the dragon banked and landed, clutching onto the side of a tower with her curved talons.

It would've solved all of Arthur's problems if they'd plummeted to their deaths but unfortunately they had planned ahead. With flares of magic they caught themselves and whilst they hit the ground hard they evidently didn't hit it hard enough to actually impede their murdering-Arthur skills.

Mordred straightened up, a tiny boy with tussled black hair, a wicked smile as out of place in his head as snake fangs would be.

Possibly more so.

Morgana rose from a crouch into a hunched posture, buckled over like she'd been wounded. But she hadn't been wounded, not physically at least. Meeting her eyes Arthur saw the alien look of madness in her contracted pupils.

Kilgarrah was groaning with a suffering so deep in made Arthur's sternum tremble in its place. His head was tilted towards his right foreleg, which he raked across the wall. Arthur guessed that Kilgarrah was resisting from trying to pull the blade out by himself because he knew he would only push it in deeper.

No-one could help him, not until this was over.

Aithusa crowed from her perch on the tower, screeching victory, but Kilgarrah wasn't quite finished. His groan rose like a landslide gaining speed and his head swung up. Before the little dragon could duck his massive jaws opened and he breathed fire straight at her-

But Arthur had to trust Kilgarrah to keep that fight above them because he was forced to look back down and Mordred and Morgana, who stood in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by dazed yet determined knights, as if they didn't have a care in the world. As the two sorcerers gazes settled on him Arthur became acutely aware of Gwen's proximity. There was no way he could protect her without drawing attention to her, without encouraging his foes to aim their wrath at her.

"Hello again, Arthur, keeping well," Mordred grinned.

The knife he'd stuck into Kilgarrah's eye appeared to have been the only weapon he'd been carrying.

Apart from his magic, of course.

Arthur looked at his sister; his mad, corrupted sister who he had failed.

"Morgana, you don't have to do this," he said softly.

Morgana just looked at him, breathing hard, hair straggled over her face. Her hands gripped her robes, hooked like dragon claws.

She was dangerous, she was pitiful, and why oh why did she make Arthur think of Merlin?

Was this what Merlin could've been?

Was this what Merlin would become, thanks to Arthur?

Morgana, who Arthur now understood to have lived bending herself beneath tyranny, had tried to fight for justice but the fight had driven her mad.

Now she didn't even know what justice was.

"Morgana," Arthur said as she and Mordred moved towards him, holding the knights at bay with invisible bonds.

Kilgarrah must've hurt Aithusa, because suddenly the she-dragon let out a hair raising wail of pain. Morgana looked up at the White Dragon and gave a series of guttural clucks in the back of her throat like some sort of ocean-dwelling creature.

Arthur recoiled a step, horrified.

"Yes, Morgana isn't quite as talkative as she used to be," Mordred said, having watched Arthur try to talk to Morgana with something akin to amusement.

Mordred looked down his nose at her, quite a feat as he was shorter than her.

"What did you _do _to her?" Arthur asked, hand shaking slightly on his sword.

"Me? I found her like this," Mordred gestured at her as she looked at Aithusa, who had clucked back, "This is the work of Kings."

Arthur went to step back again but he felt a feather light hand brush the small of his back.

Gwen.

He held his ground.

"Dear Uther, Cenred, a few barbarians. Course they weren't kings but they weren't the magic you so despise either," Mordred said, ticking the names off on his fingers.

"I don't despise magic," Arthur said automatically.

Mordred raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth.

"The laws have changed," Arthur stepped forwards, "you don't have to fight anymore."

Morgana's hands opened and closed convulsively and she trembled, looking at him.

Maybe she did still understand him.

"You think changing the laws can change the past?" Mordred hissed, insolent grin gone, "you think some words on paper can make it _right_?"

"Nothing can change the past," Arthur said steadily, trying to temper Mordred's fury with his own calmness, "all we can do is learn from it. And I have tried to; the ban on magic has been lifted."

Aithusa gave another wail and Arthur realized the dragons fight had stopped. He didn't look up but from the heavy stillness above him he could tell Kilgarrah and Aithusa had paused to listen and watch.

"Nothing can make it _right_, nothing can make what _your father _did _right_," Mordred snarled.

He spat 'your father' like an insult and Arthur didn't know how to take it.

He didn't want it to be an insult…even now, after all that had happened; he still wanted to make his dead father proud…

But…not enough to not betray his memory.

"I know," Arthur said heavily, "I'm sorry."

"YOU'RE SORRY?" Mordred shrieked, "YOU'RE SORRY?"

Morgana threw her head back and gave a wordless howl of madness and pain that Aithusa took up with her.

Arthur's spine tightened in fear.

"You think your apologies can _save _you?" Mordred leapt forwards, gathering darkness with a sweep of his hands and hurling it at Arthur.

Arthur ducked back, bringing his sword up futilely, eyes slamming closed.

Mordred yelled in fury but no blow came.

Arthur's eyes opened.

Gwen stood between them, gold light burning around her, parting Mordred's spell.

Aithusa sprang at Kilgarrah.

Morgana, hunched over like a starved dog, screamed and leapt to the right,

Mordred leapt to Arthur's left.

Gwen span to block him but as she did so Morgana was yelling words and throwing arrows of purple-white light at Arthur, who uselessly brought his sword up again.

Gwen had his back, but Morgana was going for the heart.

"Arthur!" Gwen was right behind him but her voice came from miles away and eons ago.

The moment, less the a second, stretched-

Arthur could see the shape of the magic. It looked like it was being sucked from Morgana's hands, deep purple, before it shot across the air between them, turning white hot. The tip fractured into a thousand darts coming towards him, making the light dance across the courtyard like sunlight through water.

He smelt ozone-

(I'm sorry, Merlin)

Burning-

Morgana's mad face, did she even know what she was doing?

(Forgive me)

Sun hot on his neck-

Here it came-

Magic, sharp as death-

A rush of wind-

Here we go

A flicker of-

And then there was-

Merlin appeared out of nowhere, standing between Arthur and the curse, sweeping it away with sunlight in his hand.


	18. Chapter 18: Bitterness and Mercy

**Hey lads and lasses,**

**This is the last chapter I have fully written. As of now expect delays. I'll try to keep up with my Wednesday uploads but I've got a lot to do for uni and I expect you'd rather I write this slowly and properly then rushed and stupid.**

**The end is in sight though, I've got it all planned out. Now it's just a getting it all written out. It will certainly take a few chapters to get this story where I want it, it can't be rushed!**

**Remember the 'other project' I mentioned last week? Totally fell through. I was going to enter a short story competition and got the date wrong. Ah well, it means I can work on the thing without the rush on time. Which also takes way from U.F.E writing time, I know, but it's a personal writing project. Gotta have those, right?**

**Also, wow this story got big. Over 100,000 words long, 138 followers, 130 reviews so far and more views then I can shake a cat at (though admittedly I haven't tried.) Thanks guys. I love that this is something a lot of people like and **** I really hope you all like the ending I've got planned.**

**Anyway, things to do, people to see. I am currently trying to teach myself to ride my pony bareback, which is surprisingly difficult with him not having been ridden in ages and with a trot bouncier then a kangaroo (yes, I am Australia, and no, we don't often make kangaroo analogies.)**

**So, adious!**

**Til next week (hopefully.) **

**Chapter 18: Bitterness and Mercy**

**::Arthur::**

There is in the world and every person in it an intense emotion with no name that nobody can really understand. Some attempts to describe it include the physical sensation of a tightness of the chest, or the description of a feeling of immense sadness that holds no misery.

But trying to capture the emotion into words is like trying to hold down a mountain that is, over a millennia, bursting into the sky.

Arthur reached out, reached up, gripped his hair in his hands, felt the grit beneath his fingers. Despite the yells and the explosions and the calls of dragons he heard Gwen breathe beside him, felt the pulse in the thumbs he pressed against his face. Dust was clouding the square as spells ricocheted into the stone walls; sunlight was peeking through it, weak but flickering like hopeful fire.

Reality crashed through Arthur's mind, rang through the darkness of his being.

The reality of Merlin.

Who was here.

Who had come back.

A flash of blinding red cracked overhead and Arthur ducked over Gwen, covering her with his body even as the magical shield around her came to life with a furious 'hsshhhh.'

The dragons fight was constricted and coiled now, Kilgarrah, bleeding eye and all, had pinned Aithusa and the remaining scuffle was her futilely trying to throw him off. Morgana wasn't fighting anymore; she stood at the wall beneath the dragons, hands raised, pleading with Kilgarrah to spare Aithusa, pleading with _words_. She may be mad, but she ignored the battle behind her so completely that Arthur couldn't help but feel a skerrick of respect.

And the battle itself…

Mordred sucked light and darkness from the air itself and slammed it around, aiming for Merlin but getting everything else as he did so.

Merlin was drawing golden light from himself, his eyes alive with it. He pulled it out his heart and threw it between Mordred and the people in the square. Despite the ferocity and violence of the battle no one but the sorcerers had been touched by it, thanks to Merlin's efforts.

Screaming and yelling, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat, Mordred pulled a silver light from his hatred and hurled it at Merlin. Merlin lunged sidewards, shield flaring up, but it left a red line on Merln's side. Merlin's yell of pain coalesced halfway into, not spells, but reason; he offered it to Mordred like a lifeline.

Screaming again Mordred drew his clawed hands to his chest and the ground trembled like it was being tortured and audibly cracked. He flung his hands out and Arthur braced his arms around Gwen, ready to ride it out, but Merlin had closed his eyes, brows creased ever so slightly, and as he breathed out the ground relaxed.

Mordred ripped his hands up and Merlin staggered towards him, one hand on his chest, but then his other hand came out, flat and to the side, oddly looking like he was desperate for a handshake and Mordred clapped his hands to his ears. He shrieked with his teeth closed, shrieked through everybody's minds like a banshee. Arthur felt a great pain in his spine and half fell on top of Gwen, who elbowed him in the face as she mindlessly clawed at her head.

"No," Merlin said in a ringing voice and the sound whisked away.

Arthur's vision was white as he rolled blindly off Gwen, tasting bile and blood in his mouth. His mind felt like there was a tooth missing, Mordred's cry had broken it open, exposing nerve and flesh. He winced.

"I said," Merlin stepped forwards, "no."

Mordred scrabbled backwards away from him, just like Merlin had fled from Arthur in the throne hall that fated day. The boy fell to his knees and seemed unable to stand. His gasps echoed around the courtyard, accompanied only by the deep cracking of settling rock and Aithusa's soft croons to Morgana.

Merlin stopped a few meters in front of Mordred and crouched on the balls of his feet, folding himself down but ready to spring away at any moment. He was entirely focused on Mordred; Arthur noticed how he didn't guard or even hunch over from the wound on his side.

"Mordred," Merlin said, as though the name was all the boy needed to hear.

Mordred bared his teeth and spat.

"Mordred," Merlin said again, though this time with a touch of exasperation.

"Get away from me," Mordred snarled, "_Emrys._"

Merlin sighed and nodded wearily but when he got up he moved closer the boy.

"I cannot help you if you do not let me," Merlin said, looking down at Mordred.

"Pendragons are tyrants and killers and deserve to die," Mordred snapped, looking Merlin in the eye.

Arthur was shocked to see the boy was shaking.

"The law has changed," Merlin said tiredly and knelt down again, "Uther is dead. Isn't that enough?"

"I'll torture Arthur to death. I'll get into his mind and rip it apart, I'll rip it out. He won't be human by the time I am done with him. He will savage the land and burn the city and _skin_ his friends. I will make him do it; I will make him enjoy it. I will make him come to you and beg like a dog, he'll gut himself like a fish and offer you his insides, he will-"

"Mordred," Merlin said.

Arthur felt no magic nor did he see Merlin's eyes glow but Mordred fell instantly silent.

"You cannot make me kill you, Mordred," Merlin said very, very quietly.

Mordred breathed out once, hard, glaring at Merlin.

"You can look, if you would like," Merlin said; Arthur didn't understand what he meant.

"You'll bend me into nothing," Mordred hissed and writhed though was still unable to stand.

"I won't, you can hear that first."

Merlin was looking very calm; his hands sat limp his lap.

"I. Want. To. Hate," Mordred snarled and gasped and snarled again.

Merlin sighed as if Mordred had disappointed him, raised a hand and, as Mordred leaned back with the first sign of fear in his eyes, touched two fingers to the side of the boy's forehead.

The two of them fell silent and their eyes fell closed in unison.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked in a whisper.

"Gaius?" Gwen queried.

Arthur looked around; Gwen was looking at Gaius emerging from a block of rubble holding what seemed to be a chair leg before him like a sword.

"Um, it's okay Gaius, I think it's…well…I think it's over," Arthur said, then looked back at Merlin, "sort of."

Mordred's face was no longer curled up and lined with anger. Instead he seemed to be frowning slightly, head tilted to one side, as though he had been presented with a mildly difficult math problem.

Merlin's face, on the other hand, was creased and his eyes darted urgently beneath closed lids.

"Mordred's always been able to talk to Merlin telepathically," Gaius said quietly, putting the chair leg down carefully so as not to make too much noise, "I think Merlin's…taking telepathy to the next level."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur asked, but then Gwen voiced the question he really wanted to know,

"Is he alright?"

"He'll be okay," Gaius said, watching the two sorcerers with a concerned yet scientifically interested expression (it was a rather odd look.)

"He's…I expect he's trying to convince Mordred not to hurt anyone."

"How's he going to do that?" Arthur asked. "As spell?"

"Spells that take away free will are dark, dark magic. The darkest. No…I expect…we'll have to wait for Merlin to explain it to us."

"Mordred!" Merlin suddenly said out loud.

After the strained silence the two sorcerers had sat in Merlin's voice seemed like a shout; making Arthur, Gwen and Gaius jump.

Merlin had half risen from his crouch, leg muscles trembling. Arthur could see him swallowing convulsively beneath his neckerchief.

Gaius frowned and started to go forwards then seemed to restrain himself.

"Mordred!" Merlin said again, "you don't-"

"Gaius," Arthur said, concerned.

Gaius flapped his hands in a shushing gesture.

"I don't want to have to-" Merlin began and stopped again.

Mordred's mouth curled into a smile.

"I'm-," another aborted sentence.

"Is he having a seizure?" Gwen asked in trembling alarm.

Merlin's hands, which had been curled over so only one finger from each touched Mordred, suddenly splayed, gripping the boy's head with so much force the tendons stood out. The sudden intense motion was unlike Merlin, who usually took such infinitesimal care not to hurt anyone.

Mordred exhaled out a long whine and Merlin's head came up and back, eyelids still flinching. He had the compartmentalized expression of somebody managing physical pain. There was a sudden flash of white from beneath both of the sorcerers' eyelids, an unbalancing swooping sensation like the air in the courtyard had suddenly decreased in pressure and Merlin raised his hands away from Mordred.

Merlin rocked on his heels but didn't step back.

The reason for this was immediately apparent as he moved forwards to catch Mordred before the boy hit the stone floor. There was none of Merlin's earlier intensity; he caught Mordred as though he were cracked glass, cradling him gently and lowering him to the ground, where his hands remained beneath the boys head. Mordred appeared to be semi-conscious at most.

Gaius moved towards the pair; Arthur and Gwen exchanging a glance as they followed in his wake.

"What did you do?" Gaius asked in a hushed voice, as though Mordred were sleeping and he feared waking him.

Merlin looked up at Gaius and Arthur was startled to see a raw look on his face. A look different t the pain and anger he'd seen in Ealdor, the sort of look that made Arthur want to look away.

"I locked away his magic," Merlin said.

Gwen stifled a gasp.

Gaius breathed "Oh, Merlin," softly.

And Arthur just closed his eyes.

**::Merlin::**

As Aithusa was now their captive Morgana came quietly. She seemed thoroughly unperturbed, indeed unsurprised, that Mordred was unconscious and being carried away from the scene of the battle on a stretcher. Merlin felt a confused sort of relief to see her so thoroughly concerned over Aithusa; if she was capable of caring so much for the dragon Merlin didn't think she was completely lost to them.

But Mordred…Merlin didn't know if the boy could be saved from himself.

It had been horrible, trying to get Mordred to accept his mercy. Merlin had pulled their minds together to try and get Mordred to _feel _the wrongness of what he was doing but Mordred had turned into a fistful of thorns. Merlin had been gentle because he knew his magic could've snapped Mordred's mind in a trice. The druid boy had responded with violence, lashing against Merlin's mind in the anger and fear of his exposure and vulnerability. And then when Mordred realised nothing he could say would make Merlin kill him his mind flooded with terror of captivity.

Merlin didn't understand Mordred's fear. He'd heard in the boy's thoughts that Mordred knew Merlin would take care of him. Mordred knew that he would be treated well and with respect, yet the idea of Merlin's mercy was somehow intolerable to his spirit. This was when Mordred turned his magic and mind and the malice they both ran with towards Merlin and drove it like a spike of barbed iron through Merlin's head.

If Merlin had let him, Mordred would've happily stripped Merlin's mind of everything he was.

But he didn't let him.

It the time it took to breathe and the effort it took to sigh Merlin had taken away Mordred's magic.

And now his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Gaius was overseeing the moving of Mordred and Gwen was close enough to Morgana to breathe soothing words to her. Morgana was ignoring her, eyes on Arthur and Gwaine, both of whom had their swords to Aithusa to stop her from fleeing. Gwaine's sword tip rested gently on the hollow of the dragon's throat, where neck met shoulder and a blade would meet blood. Arthur had Aithusa's head held low with his sword tip at the back of her skull where any move to raise her head to bite or flame would drive her brain onto his sword.

Merlin was conflicted, twisted with the urge to go to Arthur and rip his sword from his hands. Breaking the blade over his knee with no magic, just his hands.

He didn't want to take away Aithusa's will with his dragonlord power, it was a power too dark and twisted and with too much potential to go wrong for Merlin to use.

Instead he whispered a spell into his hands.

If anybody went to kill the baby dragon, they would fail, and Merlin would know.

Watching them as they left Merlin saw that Gwaine looked grim, Arthur looked sick.

No, Arthur looked sick and searching. His eyes had come away from the dragon crooning at mad Morgana and flicked around, looking for...

Merlin turned away from the trio to look at Kilgarrah.

Kilgarrah had obliged Arthur's request to bring Aithusa down into the courtyard with some difficulty, owing to his bulk. He'd awkwardly leant down from the wall to pass Aithusa from his teeth into their hands.

Now he sat on the wall, letting the humans deal with their mess, waiting for somebody to remember he had a dagger in his eye.

"Kilgarrah," Merlin called softly from the courtyard.

Without even looking at Merlin, as though the warlock's voice had been all he was waiting for, Kilgarrah slithered clumsily off the wall into the square; everybody in it abruptly fleeing for doors or flattening themselves on walls as he did so.

Merlin took several steps back as Kilgarrah came to rest on the stone; the dragon's head was turned to the left so he could see where he was advancing from his one good eye. The wall cracked and crumbled a bit but as it settled so did Kilgarrah until both were quiet.

"Kilgarrah," Merlin said again and stepped forwards, lifting his hands.

His arms were still shaking but that wasn't important. Kilgarrah's face was what was important; for the first time Merlin could see none of the dragon's canny wisdom. The dragon's good eye was pinched with pain and watching Merlin with the alien look of a wild animal; in his eye a beast where intelligence once lay.

"Kilgarrah."

Merlin's tone was firm now. He wanted Kilgarrah to remember himself, to remember him. He didn't much fancy being bitten in half by the dragon he was trying to heal.

Kilgarrah blinked and winced. It wasn't a flinch like an animal; his face winced like a human, so Merlin stepped forwards and placed his hand on the good side of Kilgarrah's face, hands that said _I'm here _into the dragon's skin, then walked around to the other side.

There was no two ways about it; Kilgarrah's eye was a ruin.

"_Kilgarrah_," Merlin breathed the pain with him.

The dagger was sticking out from Kilgarrah's eye, twitching horribly as the eyeball beneath it rolled in fitful agony. Blood was running down the dragon's head in bucketful's, soaking Merlin's shoes. Worse though was the strange, glistening jelly Merlin could see leaking from the impaled eye.

Merlin hissed between his teeth, half soothing and half in thought, then placed his hands on Kilgarrah's head on either side of his eye.

Kilgarrah flinched again.

Merlin hadn't been able to heal himself when his throat had been cut…but then his strength had been flowing out of him, he'd almost been done in.

Now he had strength in every beat of his heart, magic thrumming through his veins. He could feel it sparking and alive beneath his skin, feel his own fierce determination to heal Kilgarrah even though he hadn't healed himself.

His mother hadn't needed great strength or magical ability to save his life, she'd only needed her love.

Kilgarrah had done a lot of bad things, bad things he'd yet to apologize or show remorse for. Yet in the end he was good and Merlin loved him which was more reason than Merlin, who'd had mercy for Mordred, ever needed to help someone.

Gathering his magic, not sharpening it as a weapon but cradling it for healing, Merlin took his life into his own hands and placed his right hand on Kilgarrah's lacerated eyelid.

The dragon stiffened all over and made a sharp noise in his gullet as Merlin, gold glittering on his fingers, grasped the knife's hilt in his left hand. Merlin's fingers were pressed against the side of the dagger. The metal was cold.

Exhaling, his mind in some focused, calm place inside that he hadn't known he had, Merlin drew the dagger out smoothly, healing the wound in its wake.

The moment the dagger tip cleared the knitting skin of his eye Kilgarrah _screamed _and blew fire across the courtyard. Somewhere in the castle came a great crack as Kilgarrah's magic constricted around the area and Merlin threw out one blood stained hand, deflecting the rest of Kilgarrah's magic into the air where it could hurt no one.

His other hand still held the dagger and he hadn't moved his feet. There'd been no need; for all of his pain and rage Kilgarrah had been conscious of where Merlin was, conscious to stay as still as he could and not accidentally hurt him.

"Kilgarrah," Merlin yelled when the dragon had ceased throwing out his magic and had flamed into the air again.

Kilgarrah subsided and shifted his head around carefully to look at Merlin out of his good eye.

"I am blind in my left eye," Kilgarrah said bluntly.

Merlin could hear the rasp of pain cornering the dragon's words.

Tsking his tongue in thought again Merlin ducked under Kilgarrah's head to once more stand before the ruined eye. There was still a lot of blood staining Kilgarrah's golden scales.

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, dropping the bloody knife to place both hands delicately on Kilgarrah's face. He felt with his magic, searching to see what, if anything, could be done.

If Merlin had listened to Gaius' lectures on anatomy more he might've known what was wrong, but that knowledge would not have saved Kilgarrah's eye. Merlin could feel through his magic that the damage had been too much. Something integral had been severed and no power he had could restore it.

His magic may have expanded and grown, but there were intricacies of nature that remained beyond him.

"I'm so sorry Kilgarrah," Merlin murmured, running his hand across the dragon's face, peeling the blood away with his magic, "there's nothing I can do."

"The moment the blade entered my eye there was nothing to be done, apologise not for what is not your doing."

Merlin sighed.

"Thank you for protecting them," he said quietly. "I should've…I should've been here."

"It is not your fault," Kilgarrah said.

His tone was mellowing out now; Merlin could tell the pain was leaving.

"If I'd been here…"

"You were exactly where you needed to be," Kilgarrah said.

His tone held no blame; he didn't in the slightest resent Merlin for his absence.

"It was my choice to fight, do not take that away from me."

Merlin wasn't sure how he'd been taking away Kilgarrah's choice to fight so he just shrugged helplessly. Turning, he went to pick up Mordred's dagger, only to find the blade had dissolved into the ground.

It was too little, too late, but the dragon's magic had destroyed the blade.

Where Excalibur was born of Kilgarrah's fire this dagger died of Kilgarrah's blood.

Merlin stood in the crack of the door looking into the ruined room.

It was the physician's quarters…or what used to be the physician's quarters. The walls were blackened; the furniture was either gone or turned into charcoal.

Gaius and Gwen had _told _him the place was ruined…but he'd been thinking about Kilgarrah, the slight sucking resistance of the blade as it came from Kilgarrah's eye, the stone in Merlin's stomach…but his feet had brought him here.

Gaius had set up the new physician's quarters in one of the spacious quarters a few doors in from the courtyard. That was where he had taken Mordred.

Merlin turned around and left, leaving the scorched walls behind.

"Gaius," Merlin said softly, stepping into the new physician's room.

Gaius looked up from…from the face Merlin couldn't look away from.

Mordred was just a little kid.

Merlin had ripped his magic from him, had folded his magic away to the corners of Mordred's mind, and he was just a little kid.

But Merlin remembered the searing bolt of fire Mordred had tried to lash into him.

Had he singed part of Merlin's mind?

Had that been the last act of magic from the druid boy?

Merlin took a few steps closer and stopped.

He trembled.

What had he done?

"You had no choice Merlin," Gaius said, "Anybody else would've killed him."

"That isn't an excuse for hurting-" Merlin snapped, tearing his eyes from Mordred but Gaius interrupted him.

"Anyone else would've had to in order to stop him. You're the only one who _could've_ stopped him without killing him. And you did."

Merlin looked back at Mordred and crept forward to the bedside.

"You're power meant you could let Mordred live without endangering anybody," Gaius continued.

He was so little…it was hard to reconcile this sleeping figure with the murderous, dangerous figure in the courtyard.

But Gaius was right and Merlin knew it.

Merlin had grown so used to thinking the worst of himself…

"It was mercy, Merlin."

Mercy…Merlin squinted at Mordred.

Merlin had felt Mordred's mind…it was mad, twisted, furious, hateful. It was acidic.

Did everyone deserve mercy?

Gaius moved towards Merlin and touched his side with physician's fingers.

Even those who did want it?

Merlin looked down in mild surprise, only now remembering where Mordred had cut him. After the pain of…of What Had Happened…a simple cut to the side seemed a distant sort of uncomfortable.

Even those who didn't regret what they had done?

Gaius peeled back Merlin's shirt to assess the damage.

It was a simple wound. Mordred hated him, Mordred had tried to kill him.

It wasn't terrifying in the way a loved one trying to murder him had been.

Still was.

Mercy? Forgiveness?

Because if one person who loved him had hurt him, how could he ever trust again? He'd always be looking for the whites of their eyes, waiting for the blade.

Where did one end and the other begin?

Mordred had gotten mercy and Merlin hadn't…how was that fair? Was there a reason?

Had Arthur ruined him? Had he already been ruined?

No, Merlin told himself.

Merlin would not have denied Mordred his life just because somebody had denied Merlin his.

Merlin clenched his eyes closed as Gaius tended his wound.

He was _not _ruined.

He had tried to do right before and he would not squander his second chance.

He would not let bitterness take him.

After visiting Mordred Merlin went to where Aithusa and Morgana were being held, pity in his heart. He remembered detesting the idea of being pitied for what Arthur had done to him but he couldn't help it. He felt empathy, he felt sympathy, but when Merlin put his eyes upon Morgana and Aithusa, huddled together as though they were each other's only allies, snarling at the world, he couldn't help but feel pity.

Arthur hadn't wanted Morgana to be separated from Aithusa. When Aithusa had been subdued in battle Morgana had instantly stopped fighting. Arthur hadn't want them locked up either, he'd wanted them somewhere with windows. So, after an extremely hasty renovation, Morgana and Aithusa had been moved into one of the dining halls.

Merlin had checked with the guards outside to make sure Arthur wasn't here before entering.

As the guards let him pass without protest Merlin wondered if Arthur had already sent the word around the castle that Merlin was not an enemy and should not be treated as he had been under Uther's rule. Merlin wondered if Arthur had ordered the people not to fear him.

Why did his thoughts always come back to Arthur? Was it that he just liked tormenting himself, or was it just because he was in Camelot?

Camelot was, after all, Arthur's heart.

Gwen, along with about a hundred knights, was with Aithusa and Morgana. Amongst the knights were Elyan and Percival, who nodded at him from their posts along the wall. Merlin had nodded absently back as he made his way to Gwen's side. Unlike all of the men Gwen was in the middle of the hall, kneeling down a few meters from the dragon and the sorceress. It didn't seem very safe and trusting somebody, even somebody as true as Gwen, made Merlin feel breathless.

However he crouched next to her with only the slightest tremor in his knees.

He was not ruined.

Gwen looked across at him.

"You came back," she said.

Merlin lowered his head, keeping his eyes on Aithusa, assessing her as of yet untended injuries.

"I know this is the part where I am supposed to say 'I knew you'd come back,'" Gwen said. "But I didn't."

"Of course I came back," Merlin said quietly.

Gwen shifted where she knelt, squaring her shoulders in an almost confrontational manner.

"What happened to 'I can't ever go back to Camelot'?"

"Danger happened," Merlin said as he stood.

He walked across to Aithusa and Morgana, crooning in the dragonlord tongue not to control the dragon but to placate her, raising his weary hands to heal once more before leaving Gwen behind.

Merlin couldn't stand being trapped, couldn't stand to be tied to Camelot.

Yet here he was.

In Camelot.

Knowing that whilst he _could _leave, he _wouldn't_.

And it scared him.

Merlin returned to Gaius' quarters after this and fell into a fitful doze in a chair beside Mordred's bed. His power had grown stronger and stronger after he'd recovered from his own wound, yet all of the healing he had been doing had really taken it out of him.

It was whilst Merlin was dozing, half-dreaming, that Arthur came.

Arthur pushed the door open and stepped into the room in the same movement and his eyes went immediately to Merlin. His gaze was so deliberate Merlin knew Arthur had come here to find him.

They looked at each other for a fraction of a moment, both of them trying but not quite keeping their faces blank; both of them trying to hide different things for different reasons.

The look lengthened, became heavy, tangible in the air between them, then Merlin stood so violently Arthur blinked. The chair rocked on its hind legs before crashing to the floor; Mordred did not wake.

Arthur had frozen with one hand still on the door.

Merlin had his body sidewards to Arthur with his head turned sharply in the King's direction. Merlin's neckerchief bunched around the inner corner of his neck, but where it sat loosely, on the side away from Arthur, a curling smile touched Merlin's ear.

As Merlin lowered his head, gazing fiercely at Arthur, the King took a step backwards as though Merlin's regard had physically shoved him.

"What are you doing here?" Merlin asked.

With a glance at Gaius, as though for support, Arthur placed his fingers together nervously and said,

"I wanted to thank you for coming back."

His voice broke on the word 'back.'

Merlin was horrified to feel an instinctual urge to try and make Arthur feel better.

Why was it that when he needed to be Merlin still could not be cruel through and through?

"Please leave," Merlin said, soft voice belayed by gritted teeth.

"I just wanted-" Arthur started, voice rising as Merlin's dropped.

"Please…just leave," Merlin breathed, placing a knuckle to his forehead then berating himself for showing weakness.

Mordred frowned in his sleep.

"I came back to Camelot to save your people. I've done enough for one day, just leave me alone," Merlin twisted his head.

He had been going to turn away and disregard Arthur through his lack of looking but he found he could not turn his back on Arthur; his entire being froze against it.

He couldn't even look fully away from Arthur.

His skin felt tight, his scar a noose.

He was tied here…

This city would never let him go.

"Maybe you should…" Gaius began speaking with a slightly apologetic tone, voice directed towards Arthur.

Merlin heard a soft 'yeah,' and saw Arthur retreat out of the corner of his wary eye.

The door closed quietly.

"Merlin?" Gaius said hesitantly, reaching for Mordred's pulse again.

Merlin rubbed the back of his knuckle hard across the bridge of his nose.

His hands were shaking again.

He felt like a mess inside.


	19. Chapter 19: Staying

**Hello everyone,**

**I hope you are well!**

**There won't be a chapter up next week. It's only partially written and I am going on a uni excursion to a fascinating place in Australia I know nothing about (How do I know it's fascinating? Good question!) I'll certainly try to have it done by the next week though. **

**On the plus side the extra thinking time is really helping me figure out the final chapters in my head. You know, I planned almost none of this on paper. It really surprised me; normally I plan like nobody's business.**

**My primary goal in writing this story was to explore friendship and betrayal and what happens afterwards and recently I had a slight friendship debacle of my own. It has since been figured out but the difference between getting into the mind of a character to write their emotions and feeling the emotions yourself is rather interesting (though of course **_**entirely **_**different situations, my friend did not intentionally lead me to my attempted-murder…I think I would've noticed if they had.)**

**Also, last time I mentioned I am trying to learn how to ride bareback on my small pony. Yeah, fell off like a total boss. I've actually gotten a lot better, besides the whole falling off thing. **

**Now, I need to go as I have to pack for the whole uni thing,**

**See ya!**

**Chapter 19: Staying **

**::Merlin::**

After a few hours it became evident that Mordred would not be waking anytime soon so Gaius left the improvised physician's quarters. He went to check on Kilgarrah and to fetch some dinner for himself and Merlin, who had remained behind with Mordred.

Oddly it was because Mordred would not wake that Merlin stayed. He felt like the boy needed protecting, though from what he wasn't sure.

He also preferred the feeling that he owed something to Mordred then the feeling that he owed something to Camelot.

To Arthur.

He owed Arthur nothing.

Where Mordred was simply acidic Camelot and Arthur had been all burnings and pyres and cutting people's throats and now they thought that was all behind them, like just because they had decided not to persecute those with magic Merlin wouldn't still be looking over his shoulder, waiting for the penny to drop, the blow to land.

Merlin was thinking morose thoughts such as those, sitting next to Mordred's unconscious body, when he heard a loud _thump _against the door and looked around. It had sounded like somebody walking into the door, a theory supported by the sudden muffled swearing coming from the other side. With a slightly quizzical expression Merlin stood and started towards the door. He was halfway there when he heard Gwaine's unmistakable voice yell out,

"Hey great magical protector, get the door would you!"

To his complete and utter surprise Merlin felt a smile twitch at his mouths corners. He finished the walk to the door and pulled it open.

Gwaine stood behind it holding a large bottle in one hand and a roasted chicken in the other. There wasn't a plate or piece of cutlery in sight.

"Merlin," Gwaine said, acknowledgement and _thank you _in his voice, before pushing passed him.

Merlin's mouth twitched again.

"Huh, cheerful," Gwaine said, eyeing the unconscious Mordred.

Swinging the roasted bird from one leg Gwaine looked around, starting forwards when he located the table. He stopped in his tracks when he saw it had physician tools on it.

"Where do you eat around here?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at Merlin.

"We don't, it's a physician's room," Merlin replied, unable to stop a tiny smile escaping.

"Ah, yes," Gwaine said, taking a thoughtful swig from the bottle, "I accidentally ate some physician herbs before. Well, intentionally, though I wasn't supposed to. Okay, it was a bet, are you happy? Anyway, it has some ramifications on my digestion which really-"

"Please don't finish that sentence," Merlin said.

Gwaine shrugged, then went 'Ah!' as he saw the seats clustered around Mordred. Striding over he pulled them away from the bed, making a haphazard triangle of chairs facing inwards by hooking his feet around the legs and swivelling them around.

"What are you doing?" Merlin asked, bemused.

"Dinner!" Gwaine responded and fell into one of the chairs, dumping the chicken on another.

Merlin walked to the one unoccupied chair and looked at Gwaine and the chicken dubiously.

"Is this what your usual drinking circles look like?" He asked.

"Normally my buddies are a little less edible," Gwaine responded, took another swig from the bottle and gestured at Merlin to sit.

Merlin sat.

"Eat!" Gwaine pronounced.

"I don't eat meat," Merlin said.

"Ah…well, lucky I have…" Gwaine reached into one of his inner pockets and drew out a handful of crumbling bread rolls.

"Or maybe…" he reached into another pocket and pulled out a handful of dried jerky.

"That's meat," Merlin pointed out, then added to the bread rolls, "and I'm not eating those."

"Picky, picky," Gwaine sighed and stood.

He strode to the door all energy and determination and poked his head out.

"You there, bring me your finest cooked vegetables!" He yelled.

Merlin wondered who he was yelling at; Gwaine never yelled orders at servants.

"I'm not sure where that is," Gwaine yelled in response to something, "but I am sure a Lord of your capacities can fetch me some vegetables."

Pause.

Muffled yells from the random Lord.

"I've been promoted by the King himself and have the dragon's ear, don't make me use my considerable influence to…"

Gwaine pulled his head back in, looking smug.

"The man has gone, either to flee the castle or fetch us vegetables."

Merlin grinned at him.

"You'll ruin your reputation," he said as Gwaine sat back down.

"I thought my reputation was that I didn't care about my reputation," Gwaine said, tugging a leg off the chicken that was somewhat pathetically slumped over, oozing oil onto the seat. "In which case, why would I care about my reputation?"

"Valid point, sir," Merlin said, adding the title as a friendly jab.

"Sir?" Gwaine said with wounded indignation.

"Yes, you were promoted?"

"Yes I am the Royal Knight of the Universe…or the Commander of the World…or the Royal Commander of the…Awesome…something like that."

"Sounds like something that would, ah, suit you," Merlin said with just enough placation in his tone to get another yelp from Gwaine.

Gwaine was brilliant. Throughout the course of the meal, vegetables actually arriving in the hands of an amused servant, he didn't once ask Merlin what had happened or how he was. His eyes didn't flick down to Merlin's neckerchief or across to the side of his neck, searching for his scar. Gwaine just sat in his chair (apart from the one time he overbalanced it and fell off) and made ridiculous conversation about things Merlin didn't mind talking about.

When Gaius returned to his quarters with the hesitant words 'I saw Arthur…' on his lips Gwaine leapt to his feet and lifted the old man into a bear hug. A bear hug was perhaps the only thing that could've made Gaius forget his worry about Merlin and wish to speak of Arthur in favour of his high indignation. The only downside of this was that he noticed the remnants of cooked vegetables and the highly conspicuous chicken skeleton sitting on, and around, one of the chairs, and he ordered the two of them to clean it up.

Merlin would never have believed it to be possible, but Gaius ordering him to clean up the grease and bones of a roasted chicken actually made him laugh.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur leaned against the doorframe, looking into the long hall where Morgana and Aithusa crouched. He hadn't come for them…well, not mostly.

Straightening up he slipped into the room dimly lit room. Dusk was falling outside and there were many clouds across the sun, rendering his shadow a fuzzy blanket on the floor.

"Gwen?" He said softly.

Some of the knights on guard looked at him. Most were too wary to take their eyes off the dragon, must've been too wary for hours and hours. Arthur noticed the way Aithusa was ignoring them.

Gwen stood. She'd been writing something down on a long scroll of parchment but now she stretched, hands in the hollow of her back, before making her way to the King.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked with a jerk of his head towards the dragon.

Aithusa had healing skin where most of her wounds had been, though her neck was bandaged with white, unblemished cloth. Morgana petted the bandage gently, Aithusa crooking her head around the woman and sighing against her.

"What?" Gwen asked, looking at where Arthur had gestured.

"Merlin healed her?"

"Oh, yes," Gwen said, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

Seeing the gesture Arthur went to put his hand on her arm, hesitated, then finished the gesture.

"Step outside?" He asked, slightly breathless, waiting for rejection but Gwen only nodded and Arthur leapt to hold the door open for her.

"How are they going?" Arthur asked as they stepped away from the door guards, "Has Morgana said anything?"

"No," Gwen looked at the door, expression complicated.

Turning away she looked up to the sun, though it was so low 'up' was really 'across' and shielded her eyes with one arm.

"She growls a lot."

Gwen's voice was sad and Arthur's shoulders sloped.

"How did she end up like this? How did she end up so far from home?" Arthur asked.

He racked his memories but they were not enough to reveal if it was all his fault or not.

"I think it comes back to your father," Gwen said in a gently, sad voice.

Taking her arm down she looked back at Arthur.

"Doesn't everything?" Arthur crossed his arms, feeling suddenly cold.

"It was the thing with the magic, not telling her the truth about her parentage…it was more him then you, Arthur."

Arthur uncrossed his arms again, reassurance sitting strangely, and not entirely comfortably, in his heart.

He didn't deserve it.

"Can we fix it?" He asked, using 'it' to mean Morgana, this whole damn situation…everything.

"Well, she obviously cares for the dragon," Gwen reasoned, "She hasn't completely lost her ability to love."

"Does Merlin think we can save her?" Arthur asked, voice scratchy.

"I don't know. Would he have saved her if he thought we couldn't?" Gwen asked.

There was a silent moment.

"Yes," Gwen answered her own question.

"What am I going to do?" Arthur asked and started to walk, uncomfortable with the guards' proximity.

Gwen followed him into the shadow of the walkway, eyes intent.

"I went and saw him before…he doesn't want anything to do with me…I don't know how to…"

"He needs time. A lot of time," Gwen said.

The understanding in her voice made Arthur think of how wise she was, how stupid he was in comparison.

"Yeah, my life's worth of time?" He asked in bitter humour.

Gwen looked at him with a pained expression and Arthur could tell that the fact that she couldn't make everything better with a few well-chosen words sat uneasily in her mind.

"Sorry," he said.

"This might not be something you can fix, Arthur," Gwen said finally.

Arthur's eyebrows crunched together. He could either cry or frown, so he frowned.

"You can't…don't give up, though. Don't ever give up. He needs time; don't rush him by starting to give up."

"But why would he even want to forgive me? I…I'm…"

Gwen grabbed his arm hard.

"You've done what you can Arthur, don't torment yourself."

But this torment lived inside him.

Arthur bowed his head and let Gwen pull him to her.

He couldn't hope, he didn't have the strength to believe.

But Gwen did…so he would follow her lead.

Gwen was wise, after all.

After seeing Gwen Arthur went to talk to Kilgarrah.

Kilgarrah had retaken his perch on the castle wall and was watching the clean-up crews moving the rubble from the courtyard with interest. That is, he was watching it out of one eye. The other was closed, damage hidden by healed eyelid.

In the aftermath of the battle, when he had his sword laid warningly on the White Dragon's skull, Arthur had looked around for Merlin. He'd found him in the act of turning away. Arthur had wondered if Merlin had been turning away, or if he'd been turning away from _him_. He'd then berated himself for his ego; not everything was about him.

Arthur hadn't been able to stay and watch, but he'd seen Merlin step up fearlessly to Kilgarrah who had slid to the ground, a massive bulk of teeth and pain. As he'd left, guiding Aithusa away, Arthur couldn't help thinking that Merlin stepping up to the horribly wounded Kilgarrah was more admirable then him fighting Mordred.

If Mordred attacked him Merlin could attack back, disable him.

If Kilgarrah attacked him Merlin would not attack back, he would have to defend himself until Kilgarrah chose to stop because they were friends, and Merlin could ever hurt him.

Arthur now wondered if that logic meant the bravest thing Merlin had done, above fighting Mordred and healing Kilgarrah, had been returning to him.

Arthur was still nervous approaching Kilgarrah, even though Merlin had done so earlier.

Kilgarrah was _awfully _big.

"Kilgarrah," Arthur called.

The dragon's left side was to Arthur so he had to turn his neck back on itself to view Arthur from his good eye.

"I'm sorry about your eye," Arthur said.

"As is everybody, though nobody more then I," Kilgarrah said softly, "taking an enemy's eye to avenge your loss is revenge, yet if one loses an eye to take an enemy's eye, is that not sacrifice?"

"I…guess it is," Arthur said hesitantly.

"I did not know I had that capacity, Pendragon King. I thought I lost such nobility in the darkness, in the cave, destined only to advise the sacrifice of others. A cowardly scholar. It is good to know that I am not yet lost…" Kilgarrah trailed off and looked back across the courtyard.

The light was really dying now.

"I don't want to ask you to remain here…" Arthur began.

"But you feel you must, out of obligation to your people and to Emrys," Kilgarrah finished.

Arthur swallowed and nodded.

"I will remain," Kilgarrah said, but his voice sounded loaded again, like the words had meanings not intended for Arthur.

"Thank you."

"Emrys will remain also," Kilgarrah said.

Arthur looked at Kilgarrah's closed eyelid.

"This city will bury him."

Arthur shivered; Kilgarrah's heavy, prophetic tone had sent a bolt of ice and loneliness through him.

A strange loneliness, loneliness on Merlin's behalf.

"I don't want it to bury him," Arthur's whisper was uncompromising, like a wind blowing a storm in from the ocean.

Kilgarrah looked around, surprised.

"I meant it in a good way, Pendragon King."

"How can it be meant in a good way?"

"Camelot will bury you also, even if your body burns of funeral pyre. Your memories are made of gold."

"What?" Arthur said, because 'excuse me' would've been politer then he felt.

"You will lead Camelot into The Golden Age and she shall not forget you. You are the One True King."

"Okay," Arthur said blankly.

He couldn't process this talk of gold and Camelot, not when Kilgarrah's words 'This city will bury him' accompanied the memory of Merlin hating this place Arthur loved.

"It's your destiny to bring Camelot into the Golden Age, just as it was Merlin's destiny to bring magic back to the lands."

Arthur remembered the carved red line in Merlin's throat (as if he'd ever forget it.)

"I don't think much of destiny."

"Well you should," Kilgarrah said admonishingly, "your destiny is what leads you."

Arthur looked across his city, which had fallen into the shadow of night.

"It doesn't leave much for free choice."

Uther had been lead. Uther had been led by his fear.

Arthur would not follow some path just because it was predetermined.

"You choose it to lead you, you lead yourself to it. A circle, if you will."

Arthur sighed. So, they'd entered the cryptic part of the conversation.

"I need to go…speeches to the people to write, and all that. Anyway…I just…thank you, Kilgarrah."

Kilgarrah rested his gaze on Arthur; it almost felt like a physical weight.

"Goodnight, Arthur Pendragon King."

**::Merlin::**

Unbeknownst to Arthur and Kilgarrah, as they conversed Merlin slipped into the shadows of a courtyard archway and looked up, watching them.

Merlin hadn't been able to hear what they were saying; only the indistinct rumble of Kilgarrah's voice but it wasn't the idea of what they were saying that made his skin crawl.

It was the knowledge that all of his friends and allies were flocking to Arthur's side.

Would all of his friends have forgiven Arthur if Arthur hadn't proven his remorse about what had happened?

Was Merlin's continued withholding of forgiveness, of friendship, unreasonable?

Was Merlin being betrayed again? Should he be running from this place as fast and as far as he could?

Arthur and Kilgarrah finished talking and Arthur disappeared off the wall. The dragon swung his head around to look into the courtyard and Merlin slipped backwards into the archway before he could be seen.

The sky was dark and he felt a sudden, intense loneliness that made it hard to breath.

Merlin was soon distracted from the feeling of the ground giving way in his chest by Mordred waking up. The action of locking Mordred's magic away had heightened Merlin's attention for him, so he returned to the physician's quarters the moment he felt Mordred beginning to wake. The boy was still mostly asleep when Merlin slipped into the room but with a flick of his eyes and a slant of his shoulders Merlin told Gaius he was waking.

Gaius stopped sort his new stocks of herbs and moved to Mordred's beside with an apprehensive expression.

Through a small opening of Mordred's eyelids Merlin could see rolling pupils. Mordred breathed quickly for a moment then groaned softly, reaching a hand groggily up from under the blanket to rub against the side of his head. His eyes fluttered open, fuzzy and unfocused…

Then suddenly sharp.

Mordred's gaze slammed into focus on Merlin's eyes and he threw himself away from him over the far side of his bed. Gaius leapt back as Mordred hit the floor and Merlin stepped quickly to the old man's side, more out of readiness to help him then protect him.

There really wasn't anything to protect him from.

Mordred's chest was heaving but he didn't seem to be getting any air.

"Mordred, you're hyperventilating, slow your breathing-" Gaius began, but the boy interrupted.

"What have you _done_?"

Merlin closed his eyes.

"What have you _done_?" Mordred wailed again.

Merlin could hear Gaius bending down; the sound of Mordred's sobbing breathing didn't move. Couldn't move, perhaps.

"You made me do it, Mordred," Merlin said, jaw muscles hard.

"Murderer! Traitor! _WHY_?"

Merlin opened his eyes; Mordred has raised his clawing hands to his face, scratching at it violently. Throwing himself down Merlin grabbed Mordred's wrists and forced them down. There was blood on Mordred's face and beneath his ragged nails.

"It's gone, I'm gone! Don't-" Mordred's breath seized and he eyed Merlin, momentarily paralyzed by the magnitude of his revulsion. "Don't _touch _me."

"I'm sorry," Merlin said reflexively, like the words had been punched out of him.

Mordred's tendons sprang, shivering with effort, beneath Merlin's hands. Throat working, Merlin tried to close his heart off from the horror of what he had done.

"Merlin, I can manage, you don't have to be here," Gaius said.

Gaius didn't understand.

"I have to be here," Merlin said hoarsely, eyes closed.

Mordred shuddered in his grip.

_What had he done?_

"The laws have changed," Gaius said his voice low and directed at Mordred. "Magic is legal in Camelot. Magic is protected in Camelot, King Arthur set up actual legal protection for magic. You don't have to fight anymore."  
"He tried to kill you," Mordred said, his voice between a gasp and a snarl; a breathy growl. His eyes were on Merlin's throat, and he wrenched one of his hands from Merlin's grip and fisted Merlin's neckerchief.

For a moment the neckerchief constricted and Merlin's vision went blazing white with the memory of a knife striking right through him, then the knot in the cloth unwound and Mordred yanked it down.

"Let go, let go Mordred," Gaius was saying.

Merlin swallowed and looked down at Mordred, whose eyes had followed the bobbing of his Adam's apple. They went from side to side, following the line.

"How can you forget that," Mordred whispered, "how can you forgive?"

Merlin shivered, caught between wanting to strike Mordred away and wanting Mordred to see it was possible to not hurt people.

"How can you fight for him," Mordred whispered, reaching a hand up to Merlin's neck.

Merlin threw Mordred from himself and reeled back. The druid boy fell into Gaius's arms, adrenaline from before mixed with the lethargy caused by his stolen magic.

Merlin just sat on the cold stone floor and shuddered and shuddered and shuddered, a hand on his throat, feeling the skin, feeling the blood pouring down-

No, he wasn't bleeding.

He _wasn't bleeding_.

Gaius was half encouraging, half forcing Mordred back to bed as Mordred made a hissing sound; whether it was anger or laughter Merlin couldn't tell.

Merlin's inner demons were carved onto his throat for everyone to see.


	20. Chapter 20: The Meeting

**Hello people.**

**You very, very nearly didn't get this chapter. I've got a major essay worth 50% of that subjects mark due on Monday for uni that I should be working on, but I really wanted to upload something. I love receiving your cheerful reviews. And, you know, not so cheerful reviews…dear everyone who has said I made them cry, my apologies. But not, as well…I love getting sucked in by a story even when it makes me wildly depressed for the rest of the day. I'm glad this story drew you in!**

**I'll aim to get the next chapter up next Wednesday but can't make any promises.**

**Anyway, can't chat, need to go write that essay!**

**Adious!**

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Meeting**

**::Merlin::**

Aithusa's neck was warm beneath his skin, the scales transmitting the heat of her body well.

The little dragon was crooning quietly to herself. Mostly it was tuneless noise, but every now and then she gave a complex series of notes that sounded like a family of flutes. She and Morgana were both physically healed but Merlin didn't have to touch their minds to feel the damage.

Of course what they would do with a volatile sorceress and dragon Merlin didn't know. No matter the turnaround in policy Camelot was no place to raise a baby dragon, let alone heal two broken magical beings.

**::Arthur::**

The day after the attack Arthur spoke to his city, assuring them that the attackers were captured and did not pose a threat to them.

During his speech he made a point to emphasise that Merlin had returned to save them. Made a point of saying that whilst magic had been used it had not caused Mordred, Morgana and Aithusa to attack.

Arthur wasn't worried about some sort of show of civil unrest breaking out. Kilgarrah had insisted on being present for the speech, so Arthur was relieved that anyone had turned up at all.

After the speech Arthur had a brief meeting with Lancelot. Lancelot told Arthur that, after watching the battle above Camelot, some people had actually started bringing gifts to Kilgarrah, from gold to small wooden tokens and, much to Kilgarrah's delight, live goats.

"People tried to do give Merlin gifts, but he rejected them," Lancelot finished with a small shrug.

"Why?" Arthur asked, drinking in any new information that could help him understand the enigma that was Merlin.

"Probably some inexplicable reason," Lancelot sighed.

Arthur frowned at the defeat in his voice.

"You didn't ask?"

"I asked," Lancelot looked into Arthur's eyes with a heavy gaze, "he didn't answer."

"Why?" Arthur asked, cautious.

"He's angry at me," Lancelot admitted with a hopeless little laugh.

"_You? _Merlin's angry at _you_?" Arthur couldn't help asking. He was too flummoxed to say this very sensitively and Lancelot winced.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered, "but…why?"

"Something complicated and inexplicable, no doubt," Lancelot said.

At Arthur's confused expression Lancelot admitted,

"He said it was something Gwaine told him."

"What did Gwaine say?"

Now a touch of exasperation coloured Lancelot's voice.

"I don't know! He's mad at me as well!"

Strangely, and guiltily, Arthur felt heartened that he wasn't the only one standing on the outside looking in. He wondered what Lancelot could've possibly done to make Merlin angry.

But Merlin didn't just get angry, Arthur mused. Most of the time when Merlin was angry it was really a less painful way of showing he was hurt.

But how could Lancelot, brave and noble Lancelot, have hurt Merlin?

* * *

Gwaine found Arthur before Arthur found Gwaine, making him look all proactive and gaining the upper hand on the conversation, damn him.

"What did you say to Merlin to make him mad at Lancelot?" Arthur demanded.

"Nope, me first," Gwaine said whilst holding up his hand, successfully deflating whatever royal authority Arthur had woken up with that morning. "You've gotta start thinking about what you are going to do with that white dragon and crazy lady."

"That 'crazy lady' is my sister," Arthur snapped, affronted even though Morgana had tried to murder him the day before.

Gwaine looked at him blankly.

"What do you mean 'do with?'" Arthur asked resentfully once he realised Gwaine could stand there and stare blankly all day.

"Well, you have in your hands a baby dragon who can reign apocalypses down onto Camelot thanks to the resident-" Gwaine twiddled his fingers, possibly to indicate 'magician.' "And whilst I don't know much about cities…or dragons…or recent policy changes…or violent magical entities-"

"Yes?" Arthur urged impatiently.

"…I would say that one dragon per recently politically revolutionized city is enough," Gwaine finished.

Arthur looked at the ground, thinking about it.

After a moment Gwaine snidely said, "Merlin thinks so too."

Arthur looked up to find Gwaine watching him.

"It was Merlin who told me to tell you that you need to do something with Morgana and Aithusa."

Gwaine got the pronunciation perfect.

"Merlin 'told you to tell me'?" Arthur asked dubiously.

He wasn't sure if he was actually disappointed that Merlin had descended to something as petty as using a go between. Apparently Gwaine heard this in his tone because the next second his face was inches from Arthur's, every line of it uncompromisingly hard.

"You cut him up and left him for dead," Gwaine said in a voice of heavy anger. "You should be grateful he's doing what he has to do in order to stay here protecting your stupid city. You should be grateful he isn't asking you to crawl over broken glass for him, just to prove a point. You…you…" Gwaine's expression stuttered for a moment and he stepped back.

Arthur was alarmed because it wasn't anger Gwaine was trying to hide. He wouldn't try to hide anger as desperately as he was trying to look expressionless now.

"I'm sorry! Gwaine? What…? Are…?"

But Arthur didn't know how to ask 'are you okay?' in a way that wouldn't hurt him.

Gwaine took another step back and, with monumental effort, regained control of himself.

"I saw his throat, is all," Gwaine muttered, not looking at Arthur. "Merlin'd turned to say something to Gaius and the neckerchief shifted on his shoulder and I saw it."

Gwaine pointed at the side of his own neck, just a corner, but Arthur remembered the blades path, shearing through skin, and knew even a mere corner would be enough to make someone never stop seeing it.

"Merlin wasn't being immature, asking me to talk to you. He was being incredibly brave," Gwaine stated, his voice once again under his control.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said again humbly and thoroughly chastened.

"'Course, I'm all for him giving you donkey ears again, maturity be damned," Gwaine said.

His tone was strained and his laugh was false but Arthur recognized a truce when he heard one and clutched at it, feeling a guilty regret as he wished it was Merlin offering the truce.

"He told you about that?" He joked in response and Gwaine laughed and nodded.

But their eyes were not laughing and their smiles were extremely sad. It was only after they had parted that Arthur realised Gwaine had never told him what he said about Lancelot.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin sat quietly with Aithusa, ignoring Morgana as completely as she had ignored everybody when Aithusa had been captured the day before.

Aithusa wasn't hateful; Aithusa didn't want to hurt anyone. She told Merlin in slightly slurred, babyish speech about how the Angry Boy had come and talked to Morgana in English, a language Aithusa had trouble understanding. He had spurred Morgana into a vengeful frenzy and Aithusa had mimicked her, had been infected by Morgana's rage without really knowing what was happening. Remembering the fight with the Big Dragon, Aithusa had gotten restless. The day before, under Mordred's influence, she had been enraged and mad. Now she remembered Kilgarrah with fear, jerking with alarm at small noises, thinking he would be coming back for her.

Merlin explained, patiently, that Kilgarrah hadn't wanted to hurt her, only to stop her. He'd stroked Aithusa's warm neck, breathing in the dusty, slightly spicy smell of dragon and told her that Kilgarrah actually wanted to be her friend.

After a while Morgana had come over to Aithusa's side and Merlin made an effort not to flinch at her closeness. Morgana had one hand raised to her mouth and was chewing on her ragged dress's sleeve, her other hand she cautiously put beside Merlin's.

"Hello Morgana," Merlin whispered.

Morgana stared at him, eyes wide with whatever it was she saw. Whatever she saw it wasn't him.

"Aithusa," she muttered eventually, then curled into the dragon's side. Aithusa accommodated Morgana by crooking her arm for her to lean against.

When Gwen brought Morgana breakfast, Elyan tailing behind her with half a cows leg in his arms and a resigned expression on his face, Merlin left. He went back to Gaius's quarters to check on Mordred or, more accurately, he went back to Gaius's quarters to check on the people around Mordred, to make sure they were okay.

Of course Mordred had no magic and was still too weak to pose any physical threat, but Merlin's cut side still twinged as he remembered the dripping malice of Mordred's poisoned mind.

Mordred was asleep and dreaming when Merlin returned. However he only looked at him for a moment before he noticed that Gaius was sitting talking to someone.

"Mother!" Merlin said in a carefully quiet voice so as not to wake Mordred.

Hunith smiled at him. She had the dishevelled look of somebody who has spent a long night on a horse's back.

"I told you everything would be fine," Merlin recalled his parting words to Hunith and strode over to give her a hug.

"I know," Hunith said, returning the embrace, "but I had to come anyway. Turns out you may have a use for me."

Merlin followed her gaze to Gaius, who was looking uncharacteristically pleased with himself.

"What did you do?" Merlin asked Gaius with mock-suspicion, smiling with the smugness Gaius was radiating.

"Well, we need someone to take care of Mordred, to raise him and teach him, show him magic can be used for good," Gaius said, now positively grinning. "And who do we know who has raised an intensely magical, troublesome little boy?"

Merlin looked from Gaius to Hunith to Mordred to Hunith.

"That's…but that's…"

Gaius looked like a cat that had got the cream.

Hunith was looking at Merlin, obviously wanting his approval, perhaps worried he might be jealous of Mordred getting her attention.

"That's _brilliant,_" Merlin gasped.

Hunith beamed at him.

**::Gwen::**

"So you're sure…"

"Arthur, so help me, if you ask me if I know why Merlin is mad at Lancelot _one more time _I will upend this laundry basket on your head and I will feel _no shame_."

"Okay, okay! A simple _no _would suffice."

Gwen made an undignified yet highly effective growl of impatience. Arthur quieted. He was sitting with one leg propped up on the bench, the other swinging down to occasionally kick a cupboard, whilst folding laundry. He was folding it so badly Gwen almost took it off him but it was character building for him, so she didn't. Also he was annoying her and it was gratifying being the one giving him jobs for once, as opposed to vice versa.

Arthur continued making crumpled heaps of the bed linens as Gwen gently scrubbed Morgana's dress. It had taken a lot of coaxing to get Morgana to change into one of her old dresses and she'd hidden behind Aithusa's wings as she did so, the dragon snapping at anyone she thought looked too curious. Morgana wasn't happy with the clean dress, she wanted the blood and magic stained green-black one she'd been wearing during the battle, but when Gwen had told her she'd get it back to her as soon as she could she'd nodded.

She'd remembered what a nod meant, understood Gwen well enough to do so and agreed, actually doing so. Gwen was almost embarrassed by how relieved that made her.

Distracted as she was by her musings it took Gwen a moment to realise Arthur hadn't kicked the cupboard in a while. She looked up.

His fringe was casting a quiet shadow over his eyes and he was looking at his hands with a very internal expression. Frowning, Gwen lowered Morgana's dress onto the side of the scrubbing basin and dabbed her hands dry on her own clothing. She then stepped to Arthur's side and pressed her fingers against his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Aithusa cannot stay here," Arthur said and Gwen knew what he was trying to say.

Morgana could not stay in Camelot. She would not be parted from the White Dragon; if she left, Morgana left.

Gwen didn't ask why, she wasn't a fool and knew Aithusa could not stay in Camelot. In fact she was surprised Kilgarrah had stayed as long as he had.

"Where would they go?" She asked.

"I don't know, I don't know where to send them," Arthur replied, shoulders slumped. "I don't know what to do."

"Does Gaius have any ideas?"

Arthur hissed and winced, glancing at Gwen sheepishly. It wasn't hard to deduce from this that he hadn't asked Gaius.

"Does Lancelot?" She asked.

Arthur looked confused.

"I thought you didn't want to talk about what Lancelot did to-"

"I'm not talking about that," Gwen swatted Arthur's arm and he shut up, "you promoted him to the role of the Crown's Representative on Magic, remember? Does he have any ideas?"

"I don't know, I didn't ask…" Arthur said.

"Did you ask _anyone _for advice?" Gwen asked, exasperated.

Arthur looked at her sidewards.

"Of course not, you're Arthur Pendragon," Gwen muttered to herself.

Arthur grinned slightly.

"Okay, well, it makes a lot more sense to have a meeting about this then to run about the castle asking everyone separately. Then we can talk it over and come up with a solution of what to do with Morgana and Aithusa," Gwen said pragmatically.

She pulled Morgana's dress out of the water and eyed it critically before hanging it up on one of the clothes lines. Clothes tended to smell a bit musty when they dried in here so she would hang it outside when she got back from the meeting.

Because she would be going to the meeting, that went without saying.

"Ah, Gwen, where would I be without you?" Arthur asked, lowering his leg off the bench and swinging them both to bang into the cupboard, "If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times, you're very wise."

"You've never said that," Gwen said, looking across at Arthur.

She realised half way through the look that she had raised her eyebrow in a very Gaius-esque manner and wasn't sure how she felt about the realisation that she had taken on a mannerism from an old man.

"Oh," Arthur said, momentarily derailed, "I must've thought it…Anyway! I'll get Gwaine and Lancelot, you get Gaius."

"Okay," Gwen said, "where do you want to meet?"

"In the courtyard," Arthur said.

"The courtyard? A little unorthodox for a Royal meeting on magic, don't you think?" Gwen said, surprised.

"Well how else is Kilgarrah going to be able to join in?" Arthur asked her, giving her an expression that conveyed his surprise that she had not taken for granted the inclusion of the giant golden dragon.

"Kilgarrah…courtyard, of course," Gwen said, rolling her eyes and leaving.

* * *

Gwen knocked on the doorframe, peering through the gap left by the semi-open door.

"Hello? Gaius? Merlin?"

She put her fingers on the wood and pushed it open. The door moaned at her as she stepped in.

"Gwen."

The voice sent a sliver of cold down her spine and Gwen looked around for its source. Mordred was sitting up in a bed in the middle of the room, tousled hair still settling into place from when he'd sat up. On either side of his bed Merlin and Gaius were looking around towards the door.

Mordred cocked his head at her like a dog. He had a small smile on his lips like the look they shared meant something.

"Mordred," said an admonishing voice Gwen was surprised to recognize as Hunith's.

Hunith was sitting closer to a fireplace that contained a freshly set fire. The whole room had the warm smell of pine and smoke.

"Hello Hunith, I didn't know you were in Camelot," Gwen said, smiling at the older woman. Hunith smiled back, but it was a tired expression.

"Yes, well," she said quietly, "Merlin was coming back."

Hunith shrugged because she would follow Merlin to the place where he'd almost died as surely as he would return there.

"Well it's good to see you," Gwen said before the moment could stretch and become heavy.

"Thank you," Hunith said. She spoke so warmly Gwen suspected she knew Gwen had tried to smooth over the unsaid words.

"I came because Arthur's taking your advice," Gwen said, turning to face Merlin whose expression went from interested to carefully neutral. "He wants to have a meeting with a couple of people to discuss Morgana and Aithusa."

Mordred's eyes narrowed and his lips twitched at the mention of his allies.

"Which couple of people?" Merlin asked. Gwen saw him notice Mordred's tension beside him.

"Gwaine, Gaius, Lancelot, Kilgarrah and myself," Gwen said, ticking the names off on her hands.

Merlin lowered his head slightly, watching her, waiting. It took a moment for Gwen to realize what his look meant.

"And…ah…you?"

"Arthur didn't ask for me, did he?" Merlin said as he stood up. His voice wasn't hurt; it was a casual sort of hard.

Gwen shook her head and Mordred leered up at Merlin.

"Afraid your king will have forgotten-" He started but was overridden by Merlin.

"You're really going to start this again?"

Mordred wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, staring at Merlin.

"And me? What are you going to do with me?" He asked.

"You are staying here," Merlin said. "Where I can keep an eye on you."

"Surely you wouldn't separate me from dear Morgana and precious Aithusa," Mordred asked in a soft, deadly voice.

Merlin put one hand on the side of Mordred's bed and leant towards the druid boy. Mordred didn't move so Merlin loomed over him, right in his space. Gwen sucked in a breath and didn't let it go.

"I'm taking them where you can never hurt them again," Merlin breathed.

His voice was as soft as Mordred's but whilst it had no cruelty in it it held more of a threat then Mordred's ever could.

The moment outlasted Gwen's ability to hold her breath.

"Gaius, you should stay here with mother," Merlin said, voice clear and calm now, like he hadn't just made veiled threats to a psychopathic young boy.

"I can advise Arthur!" Gaius protested, already halfway out of his chair.

"I don't want anybody alone with Mordred," Merlin said, eyes on the boy, "just in case."

"Hmmm…" Gaius didn't look convinced but Gwen thought Merlin was right. She didn't like the look in Mordred's eyes.

"It's okay Gaius, I promise to come and get you if need be," Gwen said.

Gaius looked at her and nodded, trusting her advice immediately after she'd gotten the both of them out of Uther's tyranny alive.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin really didn't want to go to this meeting.

He really, really didn't want to go.

But, more than that, he didn't want to _not _go.

He had protected Camelot from the widest arranges of magic for years but had been unable to advise and guide her. His time had come, his time was now, and not even his fear and fury at Arthur was going to stop him.

But still…

He didn't want to go to this meeting.

As Gwen and he made their way to the courtyard their footsteps echoed off the stone. It made the distance sound further then it was, like it would take ages to get there as opposed to no time at all.

He glanced across at Gwen. There was some faint bruising on the corner of her jaw where she must've caught a bit of a blow during the battle the day before. Apart from that she was unmarked.

Merlin ignored the pinch at his side and resisted rubbing his throat.

"So, Kilgarrah's blind?" Gwen said, breaking the silence.

Merlin hadn't found the quietness awkward but he now uncomfortably wondered if Gwen had been hating it the entire time.

"Only in one eye," he said.

"Oh," Gwen responded.

Merlin found the silence awkward now. It wasn't his fault though, what sort of response was 'Oh'?

Merlin and Gwen passed enough servants taking detours through the castle to know that Kilgarrah would once against be taking up a majority of the courtyard, and he was. They entered the courtyard from his left and Merlin's gaze went straight to Kilgarrah's ruined eye. When he'd tried and failed to save the eye he had, at the very least, healed the eyelid. It was closed, hiding the horrible damage.

Merlin was glad Gwen didn't have to see it.

He would've yelled a greeting at the dragon to let him know they were there if it hadn't been for the shapes of three men standing before Kilgarrah. As Merlin and Gwen approached they looked around and when Arthur did a double take looking at Merlin, Merlin jutted out his chin.

After having his neck sliced open the gesture of raising his chin and exposing his neck was more than just stubborn determination to Merlin. It was a gesture just for Arthur. Despite the neckerchief hiding his scar the gesture said look at me, remember what you did and look at how unafraid I am.

Just _try _and have a go.

I dare you, Arthur Pendragon.

Across the courtyard Arthur winced and Merlin hardened his expression, unashamed at putting Arthur on the back foot. Unashamed and unhesitant about anything because if he let anything other than fierce knowledge that he could protect Camelot through his mind Merlin might just fall to pieces.

"Merlin, my man!" Gwaine cried, ignoring Merlin's fierce expression and pulling him into a bear hug. Merlin let the hug break his gaze with Arthur and block Lancelot from view. "Kilgarrah and I were just have a good old chin-wag about glasses for dragons!"

"You were?" Merlin said.

"We were not," Kilgarrah growled irritably. "Your knight is having some difficulties with differentiating 'impaired vision' with 'completely blind.'"

"Technically you're not _completely _blind," Gwaine began but then Kilgarrah peeled back his gums, exposing his very impressive array of teeth.

"But we totally respect the sacrifice you made and won't talk about glasses for dragons anymore!" Gwaine yelped and hid behind Merlin.

Kilgarrah subsided, grumbling.

"No matter how awesome an idea it is," Gwaine quipped in a high-pitched voice, still hiding behind Merlin. Kilgarrah's head swung so close to Merlin he was nearly knocked over. When he snarled Merlin got a lung full of dragon breath. The smell of blood and marrow, probably from Kilgarrah's breakfast of dead goat, made him gag and push away the dragon's snarling muzzle.

"Leave me out of this," he coughed.

"Merlin for King of Camelot!" Gwaine said faintly, wiggling his fists over Merlin's shoulders in what Merlin supposed was some sort of supportive, celebratory gesture.

"That's rabble-rousing," Arthur said.

He said it in a passable attempt at a light tone, obviously going for a joke, but Gwaine straightened up and Merlin felt like an icy river had just drenched his spine. It wasn't the words that made him feel like he'd been doused with water; it was Arthur attempting to say a joke.

It made him want to snarl like Kilgarrah had snarled, or runaway and hide. He wasn't sure why he felt like this. All he knew was that the feeling was intense and visceral.

Lancelot cleared his throat, which did nothing to diffuse the awkwardness.

"Well, um…should we get on with it then?" Gwen proposed hesitantly.

The group was positioned with Kilgarrah on one side and the sun on the other so as not to be cast into shadow. This meant that where Kilgarrah was not dusty or injured he shone, scales seeming to twinkle like stars as every movement, every breath, shifted his skin.

"Yes, would somebody care to tell me why you have invaded my courtyard?" Kilgarrah asked. Because Merlin needed to know where Arthur was in order to not look at him he saw Arthur shift slightly in his peripheral. Surprisingly Arthur didn't complain about Kilgarrah's choice of words.

"Aithusa and Morgana cannot stay here," Merlin stated, looking up into Kilgarrah's good eye.

"Aithusa is very young," Kilgarrah said. His voice was hesitant.

"She can't stay here, Kilgarrah," Merlin said.

He suspected that Kilgarrah wanted Aithusa close because she was the only other dragon alive so he was careful to be tactful and kind.

"A city is no place to raise a dragon. She needs open spaces, open sky. She needs a place where she can hunt and heal…neither of which she can do in Camelot."

Again, in his peripheral, Merlin saw Arthur move. Arthur looked at him, annoyed perhaps that Merlin had said Aithusa couldn't heal in Camelot.

Maybe he looked at Merlin because he knew it was true.

"Wherever she goes, Morgana goes," Gwen said in a surprisingly firm voice and everybody looked around. It was a sign of how Gwen had grown that she didn't stutter and babble at the sudden scrutiny.

"They need each other. If you watch them for five minutes you'll see that. They've both been hurt; separating them will only stop them healing."

"They need care too," Arthur said. His voice was tired sounding, like the words were being compelled from him. "Wherever they go, they'll need somebody to take care of them."

Silence fell.

It was an impossible task. Where were they supposed to find somebody willing to take care of a dragon and a sorcerer, both of whom were mentally scarred?

"Could you…I mean, could we renovate one of the army's outposts?" Lancelot mused. "Or maybe pay one of the minor Lords we trust to accommodate them...we could send somebody with them?"

"We can't trust any of the Lords or soldiers," Merlin said angrily, trying to hide his horror at the notion.

"We don't have any other options," Lancelot responded, tone wary.

"Well we'll have to make them then," Merlin said, levelling his most uncompromisingly look at Lancelot, "they can't be trusted. They all stood idly by during the purge, during the executions. I've had too much firsthand experience of people _just following orders._"

Lancelot had the grace to look wounded.

Merlin remembered Gwaine telling him about how Lancelot had staunchly defended Arthur after Merlin's apparent murder.

He remembered wondering what Lancelot would've done if _he'd _been the one ordered to kill him.

He remembered not being certain that Lancelot wouldn't do it.

Lancelot loved nobility too much, he valued it much higher then he valued free thought and defending what he thought was right. After Arthur had assisted in Merlin's attempted assassination Lancelot had jumped at the promotion. Not like Gwaine. Gwaine had taken his promotion calculatingly, knowing it could serve as a stopgap on royal power and give him a chance to defend magical people from further persecution. He hadn't told Merlin this in so many words but Merlin had read between the lines.

The two men taking their promotions might seem similar, but really they had both had very different motivations. Their situations were entirely different.

Gwaine was Merlin's best friend.

Lancelot could not be trusted.

"Excluding every person who stood idly by as Camelot burned will narrow the options down considerably," Kilgarrah said, lowering his head. "Yet through this narrowed pathway I think I see the solution."

"Yes?" Merlin prompted, looking over at Kilgarrah. He was still on Kilgarrah's left and when the dragon had lowered his head he'd blocked his good eye from view.

"The druids," Kilgarrah said, injured eye blank of expression but voice definitive.

"Yes," Merlin breathed.

The druids, of course.

Why hadn't he thought of that before? He'd spent his entire morning with a druid, after all. Admittedly Mordred was a bit of a delinquent of a druid, but he was a druid all the same.

Gwaine pointed at Kilgarrah in an impressed fashion.

Kilgarrah ruffled his wings, torn between haughtiness and pride.

"Can they be trusted?" Arthur asked tentatively.

Merlin looked at him with narrowed eyes and opened his mouth to spit out something derisive and defensive when Arthur hurriedly continued.

"It's only Morgana is or at least was Camelot royalty and I wasn't sure if they would hold that against her."

Merlin sucked in half a breath, swallowing back his bitter words, and looked at Arthur properly.

His hair was too flat on the top, which always happened when he tended to his appearance himself. The clothes her was wearing had some memory of being cleaned and folded, but were crumpled enough to make Merlin suspect they were the same clothes Arthur had been wearing the night before as he wrote his speech for the people. There were lines on Arthur's face, lines that were either new or Merlin had forgotten were there. He was looking at Merlin with an earnestness so intense it was like looking at the sun.

It suddenly struck Merlin, with greater clarity than ever before, that Arthur might be truly sorry.

He might truly regret what he had done.

Merlin's heart fluttered but not in hope.

It skipped in terror and beat with rage.

He saw Arthur's face changing as they looked at each other. Merlin didn't know what his expression looked like; he didn't know what Arthur was seeing.

Judging by Arthur's reaction it was nothing nice.

"They can be trusted," Kilgarrah was saying. "Where the late Uther Pendragon saw magic as a flaw punishable by death the druids see Royalty as a mere trait. A regretful trait that put's one at risk of tyranny but is not a sign of tyranny in itself. Morgana has sought sanctuary with the druids before; they will not turn her away. Not with Aithusa, that's for certain. The druids will see the protection and resurrection of the dragons as a sacred duty and will not risk Aithusa, not in any way, certainly not by harming Morgana."

"Oh," Arthur said after this long explanation, "ah…good."

He was still looking at Merlin in the sort of way that made Merlin wish he'd look away.

"I can take them," Lancelot said in the strained sort of voice people use when they want to prove themselves.

"I could go, Morgana knows me," Gwen offered.

Gwaine didn't offer. He was busy watching the space between Merlin and Arthur as if he could see the tension between them.

"No, I am King. I will go. After all my father did to the druids…" Arthur closed his eyes, freeing Merlin. "After all they suffered at his hands…I can do nothing less."

Merlin looked away, looked to the blue sky that stretched out above Camelot, higher than he could ever stretch his hands. It suddenly struck him how the sky went up and up and up for miles and miles, so large in comparison to their tiny lives.

But what he said next wasn't tiny. It felt like the biggest thing he'd ever done. It was responsibility and courage and putting hurt and anger aside to make sure two broken creatures had a safe haven and were given the best possible chance to get better.

Merlin didn't look away from the sky when he said,

"I will go as well."


	21. Chapter 21: Forest Politics

**Hello everyone,**

**An update! A little while coming but still, an update. I had real difficulty with this chapter, just with uni and various commitments it was difficult to get into the flow. I finished it this morning mainly because I was rendered stationary by a sprained ankle. (I sprained my ankle by standing up and falling over **_**literally **_**straight away. Ah, the dignity.)  
**

**How are you? Are you good? I hope you are good.**

**It's coming up to exam time but I'm not overly worried. I'm not sure why…I'll probably get worried in a few days. After exams and this story are over I have about a thousand one shots that I want to write, meaning I'll probably write about three. But still, I feel inspired! I've been listening to the soundtrack for Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, damn it's awesome.  
**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Adios**

* * *

**Chapter 21: Forest Politics**

**::Arthur::**

Arthur, Merlin, Kilgarrah, Gwaine, Gaius, Gwen and Lancelot decided there was no real point in delaying, though decided was perhaps too strong a term for the bickering and attempted-compromising that lead to that conclusion. Kilgarrah didn't want them to go alone and Gwaine didn't want them to go at all but Arthur and Merlin were adamant.

Arthur was confused and a little frightened when he found that both he and Merlin were arguing for the same thing. However no matter what their very different motivations were they both said that it had to be them, the king and his sorcerer. Arthur wondered if Merlin knew why it had to be just them or if he felt it as wordlessly and powerfully himself. They also said that there was no point in delaying, because there wasn't. Time spent waiting would achieve nothing but give them a chance to make excuses; excuses to keep Morgana in Camelot and excuses to stay away from the druids that Arthur still feared in a way that was mostly caused by shame.

**::Merlin::**

They agreed to leave the morning after the meeting. Merlin was glad in a fierce sort of way that he wouldn't have the time to grow afraid. They could finish this, take Morgana and Aithusa somewhere they would be safe, then he could commence disappearing into the walls and shadows of Camelot.

Merlin wondered if Arthur felt like the meeting with the druids, taking his enemies to his allies and finally reconciling Camelot with magic had been waiting for him all this time…blinkering his vision, crushing his breath…

Or was that just him?

Arthur hadn't exactly had a parade of dragons and druids and prophets and strange people telling him he was destined for this and only this.

Sometimes he had the depressing feeling that if his body went through the motions of fulfilling his destiny nobody would care if his soul wasn't there.

**::Gwen::**

Gwen was worried that she'd missed Arthur but when she got to his room in the morning he was still there. He was wearing one of his many ceremonial garbs though hadn't gone full-on-royalty-robes as he would be spending the day walking around the forest. He'd had to dress for practicality as ell as ceremony.

From the way Arthur was looking at himself in one of his floor to ceiling mirrors he had just finished dressing and was checking for errors. Pushing through the door into his room Gwen saw that for the first time he'd put everything on correctly all by himself. She smiled at his reflection. Meeting her eyes, Arthur's reflection smiled back.

"I'm just leaving," he said, though he didn't move away from the mirror. "I just wanted to make sure everything was-"

"Perfect," Gwen said, walking over.

Arthur turned to face her.

"It looks perfect."

Arthur narrowed his eyes with suspicion.

"I'm serious," Gwen insisted, looking Arthur up and down. "You put it all on correctly."

"You're not trying to sabotage Crown-druid relations by making me ignorant of a ruffled collar or something, are you?" Arthur said as Gwen put her hands on his shoulders.

"Would I do that?" Gwen asked innocently.

"Yes," Arthur answered sternly.

Gwen unnecessarily flattened Arthur's coat, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say next. Despite the fact that she was still smiling Arthur must've seen some tell-tale sign of it in her face. He stilled her hands with his own.

"What is it Gwen?" He asked softly.

She opened her mouth, closed it. She looked at the how one of the threads through his shirt button was unravelling itself and wondered how long it would be until it needed fixing.

Unable to find a way to delicately say what she intended Gwen spoke in an accidentally forceful voice, "You need to start trusting yourself."

"What?" Arthur said, confused and voice still holding his earlier smile.

Gwen pushed the back of her hands against Arthur's warm palms and repeated, "You need to start trusting yourself more."

"What are you talking about?" He said, cautious.

"Today's a big day for you, you're leaving Camelot to do your first official business as King…and that business being druids and Morgana and Merlin…"

As Gwen spoke she could feel Arthur tense up. She pressed closer, trying to transmit her faith in him by physical contact.

"You can trust yourself Arthur. You've…it's…"

It was so important to tell Arthur this but she didn't know to. She wanted to clench her jaw in frustration but forced herself to continue speaking, hoping to stumble upon the words that would convince him.

"None of _this_ happened because you're a bad person; you just didn't trust yourself to make the right decision so you let somebody else make the choices for you."

"Guess that was a bit of a bad choice on its own."

Arthur had mumbled very quietly but Gwen was just glad he hadn't disappeared into silence at the mention of what had happened.

"You're a _good _person Arthur, you _can_ trust yourself. You admitted you were wrong. You tried to fix your mistakes. You don't know how…" Gwen was momentarily at a loss for adjectives, "_important _that is. Not just in a King but in a _person_. You didn't trust yourself because of your father, now you don't trust yourself because of…well, Merlin."

Arthur's gaze was wary from the mention of his father but when Merlin was mentioned as well it sharpened.

"For very different reasons, of course," Gwen said. "It's just…don't make your self-belief conditional on Merlin's belief in you."

"But how can I-" Arthur started and Gwen knew what he was going to say.

"Because you've tried to make it right, to the best of your ability. You know that, and knowing that you can have faith in yourself that you'll try and do what's right in the future," Gwen insisted.

"You said Merlin needed time; that I shouldn't rush him," Arthur looked past Gwen's eyes to the left.

"This isn't rushing him. You don't have to leave Merlin behind in order to move on," Gwen said. "It's…well…it's healthier this way. He won't feel like the time it takes him to sort through things jeopardizes you becoming the king you are supposed to be…the _person _you are supposed to be."

Outside Arthur's window a distant bell gonged and a chorus of protesting crows sounded a second after. Arthur looked up and out the window even though the bell was well out of sight. He sucked in a breath as he turned.

"Forward thinking as well as patient?" He asked, though his voice was distant and not at all like he was asking Gwen. "A patient leader?"

"Yes," Gwen said and glanced at the window. "It's time for you to go."

Some of the others at last night's meeting had argued against just Merlin and Arthur going, but it was better this way.

They were the King and the Warlock.

Merlin for Aithusa, Arthur for Morgana.

Arthur for Aithusa, Merlin for Morgana.

They matched with the dragon and the sorceress best.

In the conflict between Merlin and Arthur and the white noise provided by Gwaine and Kilgarrah and Gaius it was easy to forget that this was for Aithusa and Morgana.

**::Merlin::**

It was cold and blue-grey in the courtyard. There was a mist somewhere nearby, probably outside of the city. It was close enough to make the morning damp and slow to awaken but far enough away that the air was clear.

Merlin and Arthur weren't taking any horses to ride. The horses would not have tolerated Aithusa and Merlin wasn't sure Aithusa would've tolerated the horses. He'd stayed with Aithusa and Morgana late into the night and awoken early in the morning to be with them some more. When he'd explained the plans for the following day to Morgana in a slow, patient way Merlin had been unexpectedly confronted with scorn. It wasn't quite up to Morgana's old standards of high derision but he'd seen a flicker of irritation in her eyes and Aithusa, parroting Morgana's telepathy out loud, had cried, "We're not stupid!"

Merlin hid his smile as he apologized.

For the most part the time he spent with Morgana and Aithusa was spent familiarizing himself with the young dragon's mind and mannerisms. If something went wrong either along the way or at the druids Merlin wanted to be confident that he could stop her from hurting herself or anybody else. The result of the time he spent with Aithusa was that he was confident; sleep deprived but confident.

Now he waited with Aithusa and Morgana in the cold courtyard beneath the wary eyes of the guards he had just stood down. Morgana was wearing her recently cleaned and fixed dress as well as a large coat Merlin had given to her. Aithusa was sniffing the coat, interested by the fact that Morgana was wearing something that didn't smell like Morgana. Merlin was glad Aithusa was so fascinated by this minor detail because it stopped her becoming impatient with waiting. As they had agreed to meet when the seventh hour bell sounded and the bell was yet to sound Merlin was trying not to feel irritated at Arthur. He wasn't late, he was just later then them.

Of course Arthur didn't arrive at the exact time the bell sounded, either. He was still a few minutes after but it was only the amount of time it would've taken for him to walk to the courtyard from his rooms. Merlin forced the annoyed glare that threatened to spread across his face into the back of his mind.

"Good morning," Arthur said.

Merlin wondered if Arthur was being overly polite because of himself, Morgana, Aithusa or some combination of the three of them. He wasn't sure how Arthur felt about the dragon or vice versa; Aithusa looked away from Morgana to peer at Arthur. She made a snarling, garbled sound that made Arthur skitter his feet in surprise.

It was too early in the morning to get growled at by a dragon.

"Did she say something?" Arthur asked Merlin with an attempt at hiding his wariness.

"Yes," Merlin said, trying to wrestle himself into pleasantness. He would be spending the whole day with Arthur and they needed to present a united front to the druids, something that would be impossible if they were at each other's throats.

Too late Merlin realised that thinking phrases such as 'at each other's throat' probably wouldn't help.

"She said that Morgana's jacket smells like you," Merlin finished, forcing himself not to awkwardly gesture at Morgana just for something to do with his hands.

"Oh," Arthur said, looking at Morgana in surprise. "It is mine."

"I know. Come on," Merlin said.

He moved to Aithusa's side and put his hand on her neck. With Morgana on the dragon's other side they both encouraged Aithusa towards the courtyards entrance. Arthur seemed momentarily undecided before choosing to walk on Aithusa's left, Merlin's side.

Behind them, sitting on one of the higher castle walls to catch the world's first sunlight, Kilgarrah quietly watched them leave; exhaling clouds of condensation into the cold air.

**::Arthur::**

The beginning of the journey went fairly well considering that Merlin and he were both silently trying to find a way to relate to each other. At least Merlin had a dragon that he could study when he wanted to avoid looking at Arthur, Arthur had no such luxury. If he tried to study Aithusa it looked like he was pretending to look at her in order to actually look at Merlin. As it was, he did a lot of admiring of the scenery.

His knights had done a good job of keeping the streets they traversed clear of bystanders. Arthur had seen a few curious eyes looking out of windows but with the knights and the distant golden dot of Kilgarrah at the top of the castle there was no trouble.

Morgana hadn't said anything but Arthur had seen her try to unobtrusively sniff her jacket before giving him an overtly scathing look that made him think there was hope yet.

As they left the castle behind and traversed down the empty road out of Camelot Arthur felt it grow slightly colder. He thought of how, a long time ago, he would've asked Merlin why that was in an obnoxious sort of way to try and cover up his ignorance.

Then, remembering Gwen's words and the way Merlin hadn't glared at him yet that morning Arthur asked, though he left out the obnoxiousness.

"Why is it colder outside of the castle walls?" He said; his voice wasn't quite normal, but it was a good attempt.

Merlin looked around, momentarily surprised before forcing his face to be neutral.

"The stone retains heat, I think," Merlin replied after a moment.

"Yes, that makes sense. Some of the people working on the walls after the dragon fight remarked that some parts of the stone were hot because of the dragon fire," Arthur said, though by 'remarked' he really meant 'complained.'

"Yes, well, dragons sometimes use their fire to heat up rocks to sleep on," Merlin said. His words got shorter the further the sentence progressed, making Arthur think he'd started regretted saying it after he'd started.

**::Merlin::**

They walked on to the quiet sounds of boots crunching and dress and dragon tail slithering. Merlin had startled himself into silence when he provided a dragon fact to Arthur without being asked. He wondered how Arthur had interpreted it; he was sure Arthur would've made some interpretation of it one way or another, their silence was too weighted for words to symbolise merely their own meaning.

He didn't know where the druids were exactly, but that was okay. The druids would come to them; all he, Morgana, Arthur and Aithusa had to do was enter the forest.

Merlin led them off the road; he knew the druids would live in parts of the forest that grew far away from any well-travelled road so now that they were outside of the city it made little sense to continue following it.

They stood at the edge of the forest. Because of clearing for farmland and various strategic just-in-case-of-a-siege reasons Merlin didn't care for the forest didn't begin gradually with undergrowth and saplings. Instead it was bordered by trees that were probably older then Gaius. They were tall and the watery daylight barely made it passed their outermost branches before it was swallowed whole. The four stood in a line before the forest with heads tilted back. As a crow cawed in the distance Merlin thought it looked exactly like a haunted forest from a legend or myth. Not the magical sort containing pixies and tree spirits but the type where monsters chose to reside.

The thought was true and not true; the forest did _appear _imposing but Merlin knew it was merely that, an appearance. Of course the forest looked dark and threatening; the druids were the most peaceable people in the world and hence would much rather frighten somebody away then fight them.

**::Arthur::**

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Arthur asked.

His tone held a double note of hesitancy; his actual doubt as well as his reluctance in voicing it.

"Yes," Merlin said, ignoring Arthur's dubious tone and stepping forwards.

Arthur looked across at Aithusa and Morgana, neither of which had moved. Morgana had the rapt expression of somebody coming home and Aithusa looked almost painfully curious. The end of her tail twitched like a cats.

So it was just him then, that thought the forest looked like nature's best attempt at visualizing the message 'STOP! DANGER!'

Morgana put her hand on Aithusa's neck and said the dragon's name. Together they followed Merlin. Grumbling Arthur put his hand to his side, feeling naked and vulnerable without a sword. Of course he had no use for one as he was with Merlin, the most powerful magician of all time, but all the same…he didn't like the idea of depending on someone so completely. However as there wasn't anything he could do about it now Arthur stepped through his better judgement and into the forest.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin couldn't tell if the druids knew they were there or not. They most likely did but just in case they didn't he kept Aithusa, Morgana, Arthur and himself on the move, traversing as much ground as they could to give the druids a better chance of noticing that they were there.

"How far in is the druid camp?" Arthur asked, catching up with Merlin as they walked.

His back as straight he was looking around with a calm sort of wariness on his face.

"No idea," Merlin said offhandedly.

Arthur looked around at him.

"They will come to us when they are ready," Merlin explained, stepping over a sprawling tree root. Aithusa paused to let Morgana balance a hand on her neck when her dress caught on the same root.

"Okay," Arthur said.

Merlin could tell from his tone that he was trying not to sound doubtful.

"They would approach any of us individually. Me because I am Emrys, Morgana because they have offered her sanctuary before and would want to offer it again. Aithusa, because she is one of the last dragons and they would see it as their duty to accept and protect her and you, because you are the new King."

"Well, all of us together should make them approach relatively quickly," Arthur said. Catching sight of Merlin's expression he amended, "or it might do the opposite, all of us being together might make them take longer."

"Yes, it might."

Merlin looked at the sky but it was too far away for him to tell the time by the position of the sun. The trees twisted the thin light and gaping shadows together in crazy, unpredictable directions, making it even harder to glean the time from their angle.

"All we can do is walk and wait," he finished, looking back at the ground as he nearly tripped over a bush in his distraction.

The sudden clumsiness and Arthur's proximity made the past hammer into Merlin's chest. He imagined what it would be like if this was one of their old adventures, if knives and attempted murder didn't stand between them. Arthur would've made some comment about Merlin's clumsiness whilst watching him in case he fell again.

Merlin remember running with Arthur, fleeing foes so numerous they all blended together in his mind. He remembered Arthur running with his sword drawn, ever conscious of where he was putting his feet and where Merlin was, lest he accidentally stab him with the blade.

He'd thrown things at Merlin, punched him and tripped him, but he'd always been ever so careful with swords and daggers. The idea of that old Arthur turning a blade against Merlin was laughable…

Feeling his magic for any detection of druids Merlin slipped a tiny glance at Arthur as the King looked back at their two charges.

He had apologised.

And he wasn't wearing a sword.

Why not? Did Arthur fear he couldn't trust himself with a blade? That he might lose control and stab his magical guide?

Or was it consideration?

Was Arthur really _sorry_?

Had he felt remorse over what he had done to Merlin so strongly it had changed who he was?

Had he become somebody Merlin could trust?

Merlin had trusted him before…before it had all happened. He'd been wrong; a knife to the throat was an obvious sign of that.

But had Arthur committing that most horrific act been enough to turn him into the sort of person who would never again do such a thing?

But what sort of person had to learn that murder was wrong by trial-and-error?

Scanning the area around them Arthur turned his head towards Merlin and Merlin looked away.

Surely he wouldn't have accompanied Arthur if he still felt the murderer slumbered within him, waiting to be woken by some minor grievance.

Surely Merlin could trust in his own decision to be here?

Aithusa pushed her hot nose into Merlin's had and sighed against him. His magic automatically shielded his thoughts from sorcerers or sorceress but he was bound to dragons through his inheritance as a dragonlord and Kilgarrah's blood in his veins. There was probably some ancient magic at work between him and Aithusa, allowing the little dragon to know he was hurting no matter her brokenness and no matter his defence.

"Good girl," Merlin said softly.

Aithusa keened against his hand and Merlin felt through his hand her skull vibrating lightly with the noise. None of what she had done was her fault and he was going to miss her. Looking down Merlin could see her pulse through her semi-translucent skin.

He remembered her birth, remembered her scrabbling out of that hard egg shell.

Merlin wondered what it must be like, to begin life fighting. If dragons didn't fight for life they never left their shells, they died without ever having been born.

Merlin wondered what would've happened if he'd cared for her better. Was her broken mind his fault for not protecting her as a hatchling?

Aithusa snuffled his fingers and accidentally bit his thumb.

She was still sensing his thoughts and though they were too complicated for her to comprehend she was still trying to reassure him, though her brand of reassurance did admittedly involve the biting of his fingers. Merlin winced but appreciated the gesture all the same.

**::Arthur::**

It took Arthur a moment or so to notice the first druid to appear. They had been walking ever deeper into the forest and Merlin had been becoming stiller and stiller. He was still walking of course but his head didn't turn back and forth and he seemed to be paying no attention to his surroundings. Then Aithusa stopped in her tracks. She didn't growl or bare her teeth but the wing she blocked Morgana with made Arthur look around.

A sapling moved. More accurately, a druid Arthur had mistaken for a sapling moved. He stared.

It was a man in perhaps his fifties, wearing an odd combination of clothes and nature. Self-supporting branches seemed to grow straight out of the woven garments half obscured by braids and talismans. His face was lined with wrinkles deep as crevices and fine as spiders' webs.

A few steps in front of Morgana, Aithusa and Arthur and a few steps from the druid, Merlin stopped. The trees framing the druid man were black barked and the earth was shadowy and bare.

"Emrys," the man said in an accent that sat oddly in Arthur's ears.

"Leof," Merlin replied; Arthur couldn't tell if this was a name or a title.

The druid looked passed Merlin, eyes shiny and small, hidden in part by his plaited hair and lowered brows.

"Hwa agan ge ferian her? Hwa agan ge ferian on se holtwudu?" The old man said, gesturing at the people and dragon standing behind Merlin.

"You know who I have with me," Merlin replied.

The druid frowned, glancing between Merlin and Aithusa before his eyes settled on Arthur in a way Arthur wanted to shake off.

"You will not deny us entry," Merlin stated and the man turned his frown onto him.

"Nic, ic noht."

The druid turned and walked away. Arthur didn't know what he had said but Merlin strode after him. Arthur followed Merlin for a few steps but when he looked back he saw Aithusa was still blocking Morgana, expression unsure.

"Come on," he said. He didn't know how one was supposed to speak to a dragon so he made his tone encouraging but not babyish, like how he would talk to a ten year old. Aithusa looked at him for a moment, peered around him to Merlin then looked back at Morgana.

"Come on Morgana," Arthur said, "these are your…these are your people."

He swallowed back the pain that came from knowing he was so different from Morgana; his sister and lifelong friend.

That she belonged somewhere he did not.

Hearing his words Morgana pressed Aithusa's wing out of her way.

"Come on Aithusa," Morgana said and, eyes still fixed on Arthur, followed Merlin's footsteps.

Arthur waited until she was level with him before beginning to walk. Aithusa trailed behind them both.

* * *

As they walked Arthur noticed more and more shadows flicking along in their wake. Shadows covered in branches, holding staffs of living wood. Arthur could see the whites of their eyes flashing in the few patches of sunlight; though he was perhaps mistaking their eyes with the whites of their teeth.

His heart was fluttering and his fingers were itching for his sword. He was so busy hiding his fears that when a small girl raced up to Merlin with a chain of flowers in her hand Arthur jumped and reached for his absent blade. The girl grabbed Merlin's closest hand and tugged hard, making Merlin look down and smile. In front of the blue wood he knelt down, all elbows and knees, bowing his head. The girl stood on her tip toes and slid the chain of flowers over his black hair. She patted them against his neckerchief in a self-satisfied way before leaping up to her feet and running off, suddenly bashful. Less than a hundred meters away Arthur could make out campfires through the trees; it must be the druid camp. Aithusa made a quick, high sound like a bird from behind them. Merlin looked up at Arthur, expression closed and eyes unreadable. He stood up and moved off again to follow the druid.

"Why did she do that?" Arthur asked, catching up with Merlin.

"I'm Emrys," Merlin said with a shrug, as though that explained everything.

"He freed the druids from the tyranny of Camelot," said a voice from Arthur's left.

Arthur looked around to find a teenage boy druid pacing along in his shadow. The way the boy's eyes pierced Arthur made him feel like the term 'tyranny of Camelot' was some sort of test. He wasn't sure what the right response would be.

"I didn't do it alone," Merlin said without looking around, "the King changed the law when I was absent from Camelot for a time."

Arthur looked around at Merlin, surprised. It was true, but said in a kinder way then Arthur felt he deserved.

"For Albion?" The druid boy whispered.

Still without looking around, Merlin nodded.

Albion…Albion…the word, maybe a name, sounded familiar. Kilgarrah had mentioned it, Arthur recalled. He hadn't explained what, possibly who, it was, though.

"What is Albion?" Arthur asked, "Kilgarrah said the word before but never explained what it meant…or at least he didn't explain in any way that I recognised as an explanation."

Merlin looked around at him just as Arthur realised he had once again accidentally tried to say something sarcastic and funny. For a moment he thought something tense and awkward would happen like last time but Merlin answered,

"All of the kingdoms, united as one."

**::Merlin::**

"Hwa agan ge ferian on se holtwudu?"

The druid leading them had stopped at the edge of town and a woman had stepped past him, asking the same question the man had asked before. Her hair was long and black, plaits tied with ribbons and coloured ropes and rings looped around interwoven strands. Excessive shawls draped over her shoulders but her feet were bare, growing right into the soil.

"Please speak in common English, the King does not understand Old English," Merlin said, inclining his head ever so slightly. He recognised the runes engraved in the rings in the woman's hair as those from a few of the books Gaius had saved from Uther's fires. The runes identified her as the leader of this druid clan.

"It is not our fault he has rejected the tongue of Albion," the woman said. Merlin guessed she only used English so that Arthur would understand what she was hostilely saying.

A tattoo curled beneath her left eye like a leaf or a smile. Merlin went to answer her but, to his surprise, Arthur spoke up.

"And it is not my fault that I didn't learn it."

The woman didn't raise an eyebrow at Arthur but the imbalance created by her singular tattoo gave Merlin the same impression.

"My father's destruction of magical knowledge affected me as well. I only knew what he told me and he…" Arthur breathed in and said in a solid voice, "…was not rational about magic."

Merlin looked away from Arthur's face down to the dirt. He knew it cost Arthur a lot to say that, especially to the druids Uther had tried his hardest to turn into his enemies.

The druid leader seemed satisfied both by Arthur's answer and his demeanour. Nodding slowly, eyes on the King, she turned to Merlin and repeated her earlier question in common English.

"What is it that you have brought into the forest?"

Morgana and Aithusa were standing slightly behind them, lit by the firelight but bordered by the shadows thrown by the tents that made up the druid encampment. Looking between them and Arthur, Merlin didn't know when he'd seen any group in less need of introduction. From Arthur's expression he thought the same thing. Merlin waited, seeing imminent speech in the raising of Arthur's chin.

"I'm Arthur, the King," Arthur said. "This is Aithusa the dragon and Morgana the sorceress."

He gestured as he spoke, flat hand gesturing Aithusa and Morgana, then he turned back.

"And you, ma'am?"

The woman's head twitched minutely to one side when Arthur called her 'ma'am.' Merlin had the impression she found it a bit amusing.

"Leodfruma," she said, like she was humouring him.

"That's the word druid's use for 'Leader,'" Merlin added just in case Arthur thought it was her name. He knew why the Leodfruma hadn't said her actual name. There was a belief in some magical communities that one's name had power and somebody knowing that name would give them influence over a person. The belief of the nature and strength of this influence was subject to variation, yet the base fear of it was consistent.

"Greetings from Camelot, Leodfruma," Arthur said, sounding surprisingly non-pretentious as he spoke. "We came to you to seek sanctuary for Aithusa and Morgana."

The Leodfruma looked across at Aithusa and Morgana before slowly stepping towards the dragon. Aithusa stiffened, long neck arching up so she could look down on the druid. The Leodfruma was unfazed. She just stepped closer and raised a hand like one would approach a dog, offering her hand for Aithusa to smell and examine. Aithusa peeled back a lip and Merlin sensed the depth of her growl more then he heard it. Unexpectedly Morgana stepped forwards and raised her hand. Pulling the Leodfruma's hand down she proceeded to shake it before letting go and saying,

"Aithusa says hello."

**::Arthur::**

"What's in it for us?" The Leodfruma asked abruptly, turning away from the pair.

Arthur frowned.

"She is…they are of magic," Arthur said, confused that he had to explain. "They belong with you."

"You changed the laws," The Leodfruma crossed her arms. "They belong anywhere in Camelot."

"The laws have changed but we can't give them the magical care they need, the magical _instruction _they need in Camelot. Aithusa's a young dragon and I don't think a castle is an ideal place for a dragon to grow up. You took-"

"Exactly," the Leodfruma interrupted. "She's a dragon. They're not just two more mouths to feed, but one is a _dragon_. We are poor people, _your highness_," her voice lilted, "and we can't possibly hope to hunt enough food for both ourselves and a dragon."

"I am willing to enter into negotiations for financial support for your care of them."

"King Uther was the one who drove us into hiding. He drove us into poverty. You owe the druids compensation."

Arthur suddenly realised what the Leodfruma was doing. It startled him to find politics in the forest, but he realised immediately that it made sense. The druids were political refugees of a kind, of course the Leodfruma was going to try and use this to their advantage despite their taking in of Morgana and Aithusa was a sure thing.

"I understand your position," Arthur said, "one moment, please."

He reached out to grab Merlin's arm and pull him back to talk to him but didn't close his fingers at the last minute. Merlin saw the gesture anyway and followed Arthur a few paces.

"Don't worry, they'll take them," Merlin whispered as soon as Arthur stopped.

"I know," Arthur whispered back. "Just…don't say that. This sort of negotiation will set a much better precedent for the relations between Camelot and the druids then any sort of presumption or pity would."

Arthur distantly noticed Merlin looking at him closely but was preoccupied with trying to deduce what political, social, cultural and for all he knew magical forces were at play here. He was so preoccupied he moved away from Merlin, back to the Leodfruma, without taking care to make Merlin feel like he wasn't being disregarded.

He realised later that Merlin may have felt disregarded, then even later he realised that Merlin probably wouldn't have seen Arthur's intense concentration on fixing the crimes his father had committed against magic as a sign of disregard.

**::Merlin::**

As Arthur and the Leodfruma began negotiating Merlin walked over to his charges. As far as he could tell Arthur and the Leodfruma were negotiating about future negotiations, a conversation to which he had nothing to offer. He knew the druids would take Morgana and Aithusa and, despite the debate occurring behind him, the druids knew he knew so Merlin felt that he could use his time more effectively by settling the dragon and sorceress in.

The forest was deep here and the canopy thick. Enough sunlight trickled in to make the shadows murky and uneven but the primary light came from three campfires of varying size in the middle of a ring of tents. The tents looked very permanent for the housing of nomadic people. From the way grass was growing over the tent pegs the druids had been in this camp for a while. The thick canvases had patterns and spells painted and sewn onto them, protecting whoever was inside.

Most of the druids were watching what was happening from where they sat before their tents. A few sat back on their heels at one of the fires, caught in the middle of cooking, and others froze over another fire mid-spell.

"Come on," Merlin said, reaching for Morgana's hand.

Morgana let him take it and by leading her Merlin lead both Morgana and Aithusa into the druid camp. Aithusa was snorting nervously; biting on sparks, as the druids' eyes followed her.

"It's okay," Merlin said.

Aithusa stopped, eyes rolling slightly, nostrils flaring with smells. Letting go of Morgana's hand Merlin pressed against the dragon's side, humming a wordless tune in dragontongue. As he placed magic in his fingertips and his fingertips on the dragon's throat Merlin saw Morgana stand in front of Aithusa and, when the dragon lowered her head, hug her. Morgana's grip, restricting Aithusa's head as it was, should've sent the one-edge dragon into a panic. Instead it calmed her, calmed her more than Merlin did, making Merlin certain that they were doing the right thing.

Aithusa's eye moved from Morgana's face to look over Merlin's shoulder and he looked around.

"Is she hungry?" A druid woman asked in slow english, looking at Aithusa with an odd combination of reverence and motherly concern. Young dragons were, of course, always hungry, but Merlin admitted,

"I think she's too anxious to eat."

Despite Merlin's admission the lady went to the cook fire and camp back with a spitted rabbit that smelt of strong herbs and seasoning. Moving slowly the druid offered the rabbit to Aithusa. Pulling her head from Morgana's arms Aithusa ducked it down behind Morgana's other side, hiding her face from the druid.

"It's okay, I not expect," the woman shrugged with a smile at Merlin, stepping away again.

As the druid woman left Aithusa peeked around Morgana, looking more shy and curious then afraid. Merlin saw this as an improvement.

* * *

Merlin didn't know what Arthur and the Leodfruma ended up saying but when he returned to the pair Arthur said that the druids would take Morgana and Aithusa and that they had organised some negotiation sessions that would take place half way between the druid camp and the castle.

"Thank you," Arthur said to the Leodfruma. "May I say goodbye to my sister before we leave?"

As approaching Morgana would involve Arthur entering the camp, this was a big ask. Not only was he the King of Camelot, who the druids were still wary of, but he was, much more damningly, the son of Uther.

However after a long look at Merlin that Merlin took to mean 'I'll trust him but if he does anything you will also be to blame,' the Leodfruma nodded.

Merlin didn't really need to say his goodbyes to the pair, he intended to visit them a lot in the coming days, so he stood back and watched as Arthur entered the camp. Arthur acted like he didn't notice the eyes following him though Merlin knew he would've on the back of his neck.

"It was good to meet you, Aithusa. I wish I could've known you better but I know enough to say that you have a strong heart," Arthur said quietly to the dragon.

Aithusa cocked her head at Arthur but didn't say anything in response.

"Morgana," Arthur turned to Morgana, losing his words.

Morgana, leaning against Aithusa's shoulder, stared at him.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened…I'm sorry about what father did to you and what I let happen. I hope…I hope you can find peace here."

At Morgana's continued blank stare Merlin saw Arthur's face fall as he turned away.

"Thank you."

He looked back.

Morgana had hidden her face against Aithusa but mumbled again.

"Thank you…for Aithusa…and bringing us to the druids…"

Arthur was frozen, twisted back to look at her, a painful mix of gladness and sorrow in his eyes. Finally he nodded and said, "Goodbye" in a choked voice before he turned and walked away.

* * *

They were both very quiet on the long walk back to the castle, each thinking their own private thoughts. Merlin didn't know what Arthur was thinking about, Morgana's final words perhaps, but he himself was undergoing a painful internal revelation.

Watching Arthur with the druids, saying goodbye to his sister, Merlin realised that whilst he still felt a plethora of feelings about Arthur, resent and rage and pain and loss, he also thought he would be a good king. He hadn't just decided this; on hindsight he saw how his lack of attempts to dethrone Arthur for the good of the kingdom showed how he hadn't felt Arthur threatened the good of the kingdom. Merlin had been afraid of Arthur and angry about what he had done, but he hadn't felt morally compelled to try and protect Camelot from him, not really.

Upon realizing that he thought Arthur would be a good king, Merlin realized that he thought Arthur had changed.

Arthur _was _sorry about what he had done

Arthur _had _tried to make it better.

Arthur _could _be trusted.

Merlin shivered and watched the dirt he trod on.

By supporting, and that was what Merlin was doing, Arthur's position as King, Merlin was, in a way, trusting him. He was trusting him with the kingdom, trusting him to do right what Uther taught him for so long to do wrong.

But he still didn't feel ready.

Knowing Arthur had changed Merlin felt obligated to forgive him but he wasn't _ready_. He couldn't reconcile forgiveness with the wounds in his throat and, primarily in his heart.

Did he owe it to Arthur? Was he now just being obstinate? Unfair?

Would Arthur expect Merlin to forgive him because Merlin supported him as King?

Would Gaius and Gwen and everybody else in Camelot expect him to?

Merlin absently pressed his hands together.

Even though he didn't feel like he did, his actions proved that he trusted Arthur as King.

By trusting Arthur as King, Merlin had realized Arthur had changed his views on magic, had become a trustworthy person.

Merlin thought this meant he was supposed to personally trust Arthur.

Forgive him.

That was the logic. He had reasoned it, others would reason it, _Arthur _would reason it.

But he wasn't ready.

Yet.

The word 'yet' gave Merlin an idea.

If he pretended to trust Arthur, to be okay with him and Camelot and everything, nobody would wonder why he wasn't. People would stop pressuring him, pulling him this way and that.

It would buy him time to find a way to live in Camelot, to find a new normal.

He might give him a chance to _breathe _again.


	22. Chapter 22: The Sword in the Stone

**Hey everyone,**

**I've got an exam tomorrow and am happy I have something to upload. I should be studying but…ah…I like to think that I do my learning in class and that my time before exams is spent more productively just trying to be calm. It doesn't really work but it's a good excuse to do fun things like going to horse events, which, incidentally, I did. **

**We're getting close to the end of the story now. I think there will be one more chapter and an epilogue. It's going to be weird, this thing being done, I'll have a party (which will mainly consist of me sleeping.)**

**But it's not over yet, of course.**

**So, on with the show! **

* * *

**Chapter 22: The Sword in the Stone.**

**::Arthur::**

It was exactly one week since Arthur and Merlin had visited the druids, one week since Arthur had seen Morgana. Even though he had gone for months without seeing her in the past this week felt like longer. Today was the first meeting between the Camelot and druid representatives to negotiate their co-existence. Arthur had to go, of course, along with a few carefully chosen delegates. Merlin's attendance, however, was much less definite.

Ever since the meeting with the Leodfruma the previous week Merlin had been acting…odd.

Odd in a good way, but good in a way that was possibly bad.

He'd been very quiet on the return journey to Camelot and Arthur hadn't realised some part of Merlin was rearranging itself until Merlin smiled at Lancelot.

Lancelot and Gwen had come down to the courtyard to greet them; Gwen for Arthur and Lancelot for Merlin as his guilt had eroded his boundaries. From the way Merlin had acted the last time he'd seen Lancelot, at the meeting, Arthur had expected silence at best, though barbs most probably.

Merlin had derided Lancelot with such venom that when Merlin smiled at him Arthur knew there was something he'd missed. Merlin would've needed real anger to speak so harshly to Lancelot and real anger didn't just evaporate in sunlight.

Either his anger had been faked or his sudden happiness was and Merlin wasn't the sort to fake anger.

As Arthur was looking between Merlin and Lancelot, wondering, Merlin turned to him and said,

"Excuse me, Arthur, I need to go and check on how Gaius and my mother are going with Mordred."

He left Arthur standing beside Gwen and Lancelot, who were interchanging exceedingly bland small talk.

Arthur realized he had missed something. Something had happened on the visit to the druids that had wrought a significant change in Merlin…and he had no idea what it had been.

The dirt crunching beneath his feet was only an illusion of solid ground.

Since then he'd been polite to Arthur, and not in a cold or wordlessly-significant way, just inexplicably polite. He hadn't begun hanging out with Arthur again, that would've been too much even for this strangely amicable Merlin, but he hadn't been making himself pointedly absent. He didn't leave rooms when Arthur entered, or avoid rooms where Arthur was known to frequent. Merlin had involved himself in the development of magical relations both internally and externally of Camelot; he'd thrown himself into the druid treaties. It was because of the fervor he exhibited when working on the treaties that his absence from the Camelot delegate party that made Arthur feel compelled to seek him out.

* * *

Arthur rapped his knuckles against the big wooden door that blocked the whole of the stairwell. When he had learned that Merlin was sharing a room with Hunith, Mordred and Gaius, as well as the occasion patient, he had offered Merlin a room all for himself. It was a massive offer for a former-servant, though perhaps at appropriate one for Camelot's resident sorcerer, if indeed that was what Merlin was. Merlin had chosen this room four days ago, this room high in a tower, far away from everything but the lonely wind.

Hearing a muffled "Come in," from through the door Arthur pulled open the big bolt holding it shut. It was made of wood, not the usual iron, though Arthur could've sworn he felt magic in it as he swung the door open. Upon entering the room Arthur became thoroughly distracted from his purpose of finding Merlin, though in his defense if any room was going to be distracting it was this one.

The room was filled in every corner by his magic and the windows were overflowing with shimmering light. It was big, the tower room, big enough that sheets and boards could be, and had been, put up to compensate for the lack of side rooms. There were three large wooden benches that would not have looked out of place in a blacksmiths. Two stood side-by-side against opposite wall and one in the middle of the room as though it had been put down for a moment and then forgotten. The desks on Arthur's far left were overflowing with plants that ranged from the common weed, oddly potted with obvious care, and unfamiliar flowers with petals half crushed in a grinding bowl. The table beside the plant-desk was covered in books and papers and quills and open inkbottles. Merlin's style of organization appeared very similar to Arthur's. On the opposite side of the room to the desks was a rather cobbled-together looking wall that Arthur thought must be blocking Merlin's bed from view.

Merlin himself was standing at the table in the middle of the room, which had a mix of books and plants and mysterious things on it. Mostly it seemed dedicated to objects Arthur didn't understand though he assumed they were for magic. There were bottles of strange liquid and the remains of what appeared to be a bottle melted by its contents balanced on one corner. A fire burning on nothing snapped happily in the middle of the desk and the papers around it bore scorch marks and the look of being hastily moved. Merlin was fighting with a metal contraption that appeared to be a stand for a large vial and putting up a good fight. Arthur had seen similar objects in the past holding pots over fires when he had visited the kitchens with the excuse of looking for food but the goal of visiting Gwen.

But he wasn't here to see the room, Arthur remembered. He looked away from the overflowing room and back at Merlin.

Merlin was wearing his usual jacket and scrappy pants though Arthur hadn't seen the neckerchief he was wearing before. Arthur guessed it was one of Hunith's as Ealdor was the only place other than Camelot Merlin could've gotten one.

"Hello, Merlin," Arthur said.

Merlin glanced up from the metal contraption.

"Hello Arthur," he responded in a pleasant tone.

"Your room looks…interesting," Arthur said, wincing internally at the word 'interesting.'

Merlin just smiled as though he knew what Arthur meant.

"Yes, I quite like it."

"What's it all for?" Arthur asked.

"Magic," Merlin said with an isn't-it-obvious sort of shrug. "It's why I chose such a secluded room, I'm still just setting stuff up but I expect I'll be doing some experiments that are potentially dangerous."

"Potentially dangerous?" Arthur said, alarmed and imagining explosions and toppling towers.

Merlin fluttered his hands dismissively.

"Within reason, like knights training. You take safety precautions but you still don't have them inside the castle."

"Gaius wouldn't be happy about that," Arthur said with hesitant hope.

"No," Merlin said with a laugh that didn't really sound like a laugh, "He wouldn't."

It was that odd little laugh that made Arthur step towards the table. Merlin watched him, smile becoming slightly less sure of itself as he did so.

"So you didn't choose this room just because it's so far away?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice from going too quiet or too sad.

"'Course not," Merlin said, but he didn't offer any reasons and Arthur wasn't sure what his eyes were saying.

After a moment where Arthur felt like he was supposed to have learned or expressed some knowledge of something he was quite in the dark about he cleared his throat, looking down at the table.

"Well, anyway. I came up here to ask if you were planning on coming to the druid meeting today? Well…now?"

He looked back up; Merlin had turned away.

"No," Merlin said lightly, moving over to his book-table and grabbing a massive text written in a language that wasn't English. "No offense but I have better things to do with my time then watch a bunch of people reach an agreement that's predetermined."

"Predetermined?"

"Yes. Like how they were going to take Morgana and Aithusa before we even asked them to. The druids need these treaties as much as Camelot does, actually probably quite a lot more. Yes, there will be negotiations and such but everybody already knows what you're all going to agree on."

Arthur couldn't really argue with this. He knew Camelot was in the position of power in these talks and because of that he had to careful and responsible, but he also knew that no matter how careful he wanted to be there were some things he couldn't offer. There were borders he couldn't retreat on no matter how much it insulted the druids.

He hoped the Leodfruma knew that there were restrictions on Arthur as well, even though he was King of Camelot which had so much and she was the leader of a small band of druids who had so little.

"Okay…I…hmm…" Arthur said, disappointed and undecided.

"What?" Merlin said, looking away from the book in his hands.

"I was hoping you would come. You know about magic and druids and…stuff…"

"Take Gaius," Merlin said dismissively, turning back to his book, "I'm sure he'd be happy to help."

"I don't want to ask Gaius, he's old and we'll be riding horses."

"Take Lancelot, then."

"I am, but he's a go-between, a representative. He's not an expert, he doesn't know about magic."

Merlin sighed, closing the book.

"Take…Kilgarrah then. Yes…take Kilgarrah! He'd love for an excuse to see Aithusa."

"Isn't he a bit…biased?" Arthur said.

He was worried that it would sound like he was just disregarding all of Merlin's suggestions to get him to go but he did genuinely feel that Merlin was the best for the task.

"He's been waiting for years for you to become the One True King and all, so if he's biased towards anyone, it will be the druids."

"I thought he would side with them because they have Aithu-hang on, what do you mean? One True King?"

Arthur felt the same as he had a week ago at the mention of 'Albion,' an alien name said as though he was supposed to find it familiar.

"Oh, you know," Merlin said, sounding uncomfortable now, "destiny and all."

"I don't know," Arthur said, trying not to sound impatient, "that's why I need you."

"Kilgarrah knows about it, take him," Merlin said, still sounding uncomfortable.

Arthur looked at Merlin. Merlin who was being so polite but was still so reserved. Merlin who had been helping him with the druid treaties but now didn't want to help anymore.

Merlin, who he understood.

Merlin, who he didn't understand anymore.

"Please come with me," Arthur said.

Merlin, who'd been avoiding Arthur's eyes, looked at him.

"Please, Merlin. I don't just want any magical help…I want yours."

He felt like he had said something big, exposed some part of his heart by asking, so when Merlin turned away and repeated, "Take Kilgarrah," it felt like a special kind of rejection. Arthur didn't sigh and he didn't get angry, though he felt like doing both of those things. He almost said "Fine," but, just before the word came out of his mouth, turned it into "Okay." It was much more neutral.

Arthur was careful to be gentle with the door on his way out.

He reminded himself about patience even as a part of his mind remembered how Merlin had stuck around after he had exposed his betrayal, made his apologies obvious even when Arthur didn't want to hear them.

He reminded himself about patience even as he wondered why, now that it was Arthur who had been the betrayer and Arthur who wanted to show his apologies, Merlin wouldn't let him do the same.

* * *

The first meeting with the started badly and went downhill from there.

The journey began with Kilgarrah swooping overhead and frightening all of the horses. As Fallourn shied Arthur gritted his teeth, focusing on controlling his horse rather than his fury at the dragon for being difficult. Kilgarrah had agreed to accompany the Camelot delegation to the treaties but he hadn't seemed exactly overjoyed by the prospect. He'd assumed a look of high disdain that Arthur thought was probably part of the reason he kept flying so low over the horses; Kilgarrah didn't care that the horses were highly useful as mounts, he saw them as food and, therefore, inferior.

When the delegation got under the cover of trees the horses calmed down considerably. As Arthur couldn't see Kilgarrah flying overhead anymore he assumed the dragon had go on to the meeting place without the harassment of horses to incite him into travelling slowly. Fallourn hard worked up a considerable sweat and Lancelot's horse was lame, the knight had gotten off and was leading it, unable to leave it safely tied and he unable to return to Camelot yet. Without imminent risking of being bucked off Fallourn's back to distract him Arthur couldn't help being furious at Kilgarrah for his pettiness and Merlin for not coming.

Why hadn't Merlin come?

Yes, Arthur expected that despite Merlin's recent behaviour he still wished to avoid the king, but couldn't he come even for the sake of Camelot's?

Merlin had gone on for weeks about accepting magic and providing equal opportunity and protection for magical people, and now that Arthur was trying to do something about it Merlin had deserted him.

They hadn't been in the forest for long before Arthur called a halt. There was a small clearing that the two parties had agreed to meet at. Of course they couldn't use it as they had intended; Arthur could already hear Kilgarrah smashing the trees bordering the clearing to make room for him to lie down. Leaving the horses a few hundred meters away with the stable hand Arthur had brought especially for the purpose the delegation commenced on foot.

Arthur and Lancelot were the primary representatives with the scribe, two clerks and Arthur's advisor, Steven, coming along only to record the meeting and make note of any laws or policies that would have to be looked into upon their return to Camelot. Steven was the only helper who didn't seem fazed by the forest; the scribe and clerks walked so close together they were in imminent danger of tripping each other over. Nobody spoke as they walked and Arthur knew this was mainly because of his own irritated silence. Sensing how the mood of the party was reflecting his own Arthur took a few deep breaths to force himself calm. There were worse times to lose ones temper then when at a highly important political meeting, but not very many.

Ahead they could hear the murmur of voices and Arthur could make out druids moving through the trees, though with their interesting clothes they looked like the forest was walking. As the Camelot delegation got closer Arthur felt Lancelot step behind him. The gesture of solidarity gave him a surprising surge of confidence.

The druids had found the most open areas in the trees next to the clearing so that Kilgarrah could see them. The dragon's claws were sunk deep into the soil and Arthur could see vicious gouges in the grass where Kilgarrah must've landed.

Arthur stopped on Kilgarrah's right. The dragon was overextended away from them to look at the druid's on his left through his right eye. Hearing the people on his right Kilgarrah looked around and Arthur caught the words, "…see her sometime" as Kilgarrah finished speaking.

The Leodfruma stepped clear of Kilgarrah's shoulder; it was obvious that she was the one Kilgarrah had been talking to. Wearing the same clothing as when Arthur had first seen her the Leodfruma lifted her hands to about shoulder height. Apparently this was some sort of signal as a few young men and women druids sparked torches alight with their hands, making the clerks and scribe jump. Arthur had a sword at his side today, a ceremonial blade. It would not have been suitable at his last meeting with the druids, with him having Merlin for protection as well as it being the first meeting of the new king and the people who had been oppressed and hunted by the previous king for so many years.

However it was suitable today. Today when Arthur strapped on a sword it wasn't to show that he could fight, it was to show that he could protect people. Arthur hoped the Leodfruma understood that. From the way she stood calmly, hands now folded in front of her, without looking at the sword, Arthur was at least content that she didn't feel threatened by it.

"Welcome, Pendragon King," Kilgarrah said.

It was odd, Kilgarrah welcoming Arthur when he was supposed to be with their delegation, but somehow appropriate. Standing to the side of the two parties, belonging to both and neither, the dragon was a mediator of sorts.

"Good morning," Arthur said courteously to the Leodfruma.

Just as the Camelot helpers hung back from the king and knight, the four younger druids hung back from the Leodfruma. As the Leodfruma returned Arthur's greeting an old, grizzled man stepped away from the trees and hobbled towards her, standing beside her opposite from Lancelot.

"This is Lancelot, who is the representative for Camelot on the Crown's stance on magic. He will be reciting the matters discussed here to the nobles and councils of Camelot," Arthur said.

He spoke politely but firmly, carefully keeping any waver from his voice. He didn't want to sound like he was asking her permission for Lancelot's presence, not even through inflection.

"This is the Awritan-macian. In your words, the write-maker. He will weave these matters into songs, so that the world may remember them," the Leodfruma said, sweeping one hand towards the write-maker.

For a man with such a poetic sounding job he had a rather Gaius-esque grimace on his face.

"Emrys nic her?" The write-maker croaked.

"No, Emrys is not here," Kilgarrah said, settling his broad chest onto the ground, crushing a few previously promising looking saplings.

Arthur had thought the translation was Kilgarrah's subtle reminder to the druids that they had agreed to use common English until the dragon said in an irritable fashion, "And the agreement was to use the common language."

Arthur supposed dragons didn't have much call for subtlety in day to day life.

The write-maker sighed scratchily and glared at Lancelot for no readily apparent reason. As Lancelot was to Arthur's side he couldn't see the knight's expression, but even just imagining the knight's awkwardness cheered him up a little.

"The Awritan-macian apologises," The Leodfruma said imperiously.

Arthur hadn't known it was possible to make an apology sound so righteously exasperated. The write-maker glared at the Leodfruma; he was all diplomacy this one.

There weren't any chairs arranged for the meeting. The Leodfruma had said at their last meeting that they wanted more short meetings as opposed to less long ones. It had some complicated reason to do with the balance of magic in the druid camp. Arthur gathered that they were in the middle of some sort of spell for the season, though what to make of that he didn't know.

All he was sure of was the result: no chairs.

"How are Morgana and Aithusa?" Arthur asked.

He said it in his diplomatic-politeness voice though he genuinely cared.

The Leodfruma either heard his real motives or remembered something from the previous week because she didn't give a one word brush off as an answer.

"Both were deeply injured in many ways when they arrived in our camp. A week is a short amount of time, but I do believe they will get better. I do not know how long it will take, or to what extent they will be able to heal, but I _do_ believe they will get better."

"Thank you," Arthur said, putting as much gratitude into his voice as he could. He was grateful that the Leodfruma hadn't, upon noticing what his question had meant to him, delayed answering or tried to somehow use the knowledge to get one over Arthur. She had given him valuable information freely; Arthur's respect for her grew.

"When Merlin and I came we agreed to discuss Camelot's policy on magic at our first meeting," Arthur said after a moment, resisting the urge to clap his hands in a let's-get-down-to-business sort of way.

"Where is Emrys?" The write-maker interrupted, using common English for the first time.

"He could not attend. Merlin is…" Arthur remembered Merlin fighting with the metal contraption and saying he had better things to do then attend negotiations, "…casting some magic today. On the castle. Shields and stuff."

Arthur realised he was at imminent danger of sounding like an idiot and forced himself to stop talking. It was partially true, sort of. Merlin was setting up his quarters, where he would be casting future magic. The write-maker looked grumpy but the Leodfruma looked unfazed.

"Envoys were sent out when the policy was changed, but I understand they may not have found you," Arthur continued.

"The envoys did not find us," the Leodfruma confirmed.

Arthur had been expecting that. The druids had obviously heard of the changes, probably through farmers or druids in disguises purchasing things in Camelot that are only sold in cities, but the finer details wouldn't have made it into rumors.

"In that case, we brought some copies of the reforms for you to have."

Arthur was pleased that the documents were in the druids' native tongue, Old English. Merlin had set himself to translating them with Gaius double-checking his work for accuracy.

Beside him Lancelot beckoned Steven forwards and Steven came, handing over the documents with infinite care, as though all that was right in the world depended on him giving the parchments safely to Lancelot.

"Would you like to read them now?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," the Leodfruma said and the write-maker stood forwards to take them from Lancelot, once again glaring at the young man furiously. Lancelot stretched out his arms as though hesitant to get too close to the old man.

The write-maker then handed the parchments to the Leodfruma without looking at them, glaring at Arthur as the druid leader began to read the summary on the first page of the following documents. Arthur folded his hands in front of himself and looked blankly at the old man. The write-maker snapped his teeth in that unique way irritated old people have on snapping their teeth. Arthur kept his face blank as Lancelot scuffed one foot beside him. Apart from the crinkle of parchment and the sounds of the other people in the clearing the loudest noise was Kilgarrah's breathing. The dragon always breathed like he was falling asleep.

Arthur had expected to be standing there for a while as the Leodfruma read the sizeable document, but after the summary she looked up with her sharp eyebrows creased.

"You write about uniting the magical and non-magical people of Camelot," she said, one hand brushing over the black words, "but you fail to mention Albion."

"Albion?" Arthur said. He spoke slowly, hesitant to reveal his ignorance yet unwilling to bluff knowledge. "I have heard the term but am yet to have it properly described to me."

Kilgarrah shifted where he sat as the Leodfruma and the write-maker shared what appeared to be an incredulous look, though Arthur hadn't the slightest clue what they were looking incredulous about. He took the liberty to glance at Lancelot, who also looked confused.

"You don't know what Albion is?" The Leofruma said after a moment. Her voice was grave.

Arthur straightened his back.

"No I do not."

"What about your destiny?" The Leodfruma asked.

Kilgarrah cleared his throat in what Arthur would've sworn was an embarrassed fashion if a dragon clearing it's throat in an embarrassed fashion hadn't been such a ridiculous concept.

"Kilgarrah mentioned something about my destiny," Arthur said, speaking as he remembered, "but he didn't really explain it in detail."

As the Leodfruma and the write-maker shared another significant look Arthur remembered Kilgarrah and Merlin mentioning the term 'One True King,' but it sounded too presumptuous to actually say.

"Is there a problem?" Arthur asked.

"Indeed," the Leodfruma said, "the Once and Future King not knowing of his own role to play in Albion."

Oh, so he was the 'One True' as well as the 'Once and Future' King with something to do with Albion now, was he?

Why wouldn't people just explain things instead of saying random, nonsensical sentences?

"Pendragon King has been informed to an extent," Kilgarrah said hastily, making everybody jump and look around. "But, and you must understand, until the demise of the late Uther Pendragon such information was unable to be conveyed."

"That was weeks ago," the Leodfruma said, she sounded like she was restraining herself from exasperation with enormous difficulty. "How has he not been informed since?"

"You are not ignorant of the circumstances surrounding the demise of Uther Pendragon," Kilgarrah said.

Arthur felt his hackles rising at the allusions he didn't understand being made to his father's death.

It was okay, it wasn't like he was the King of Camelot and should maybe be kept informed, or anything.

"It was not my duty to explain it to him," Kilgarrah said somewhat defensively.

"Whose duty is it to explain what to me?" Arthur said finally, knowing he sounded very ignorant but unable to restrain himself anymore.

"It was Emrys duty to explain everything to you," the write-maker said.

"Could you be a little more specific? What is everything? Why Merlin?"

"Your destiny," the Leodfruma said, lowering the parchments and looking Arthur square in the eye. "Albion. _Everything._"

"Why can't you just tell me?"

The Leodfruma looked agitated for the first time.

"It's _Emrys_," she said, as though that was an answer.

"It has to be Emrys," the write-maker agreed, nodding, losing his fierce expression.

"It does have to be Merlin," Kilgarrah said, as though scolding Arthur for a silly suggestion.

Arthur was completely lost.

"Well, okay. When I return to Camelot I'll ask Merlin to explain _everything _to me," he couldn't help flicking Kilgarrah an irritated look. "Until then, if you finish reading the-"

"No," The Leodfruma said, still agitated. "You must go now. There is no point in continuing these meetings until you pledge to Albion."

"I'm sure there is_ some_ point," Arthur replied, but the Leodfruma was already shaking her head.

"No. Albion is everything to the druids, the Once and Future King is essential. You must go and talk to Emrys immediately. Every moment of delay is a moment too many."

Arthur shared another look with Lancelot. Who shrugged but didn't meet his eyes. Did _Lancelot _know something he didn't?

What was going on?

It was obvious they couldn't proceed with negotiations until Arthur knew _everything_, whatever _everything _was, so in frustration Arthur said, "Thank you for your time."

"The next meeting shall be in this same place exactly a week from now, as we arranged," the Leodfruma said.

Arthur inclined his head in a fury of politeness before turning away. Before he and his people left the baffled clearing Arthur looked over at Kilgarrah.

"Don't fly so low over the horses this time."

Kilgarrah seemed so embarrassed over the shambles the meeting had fallen into and his mysterious yet obviously guilty role in causing it that he nodded as he backed away from the trees for wing room.

Arthur strode away from the druids, Lancelot just keeping up and their staff trailing behind, and waited until they were at least out of ear shot before swearing and muttering "Ridiculous."

**::Merlin::**

When Kilgarrah returned to the castle hours before the delegation was due to return Merlin took a moment to look out the window. He wondered if Kilgarrah had left the negotiations before they were over or if the negotiations had ended much earlier than they were supposed to.

A while after the dragon had arrived and gone to sleep on the sunny wall the delegation returned, answering Merlin's question.

He looked out the window again and wondered what had happened.

The tower was circular, hence so was his room, and had windows facing in every direction. However the room was too high up for Merlin to be able to read Arthur. He only recognized him because of Fallourn's distinctive colour and tack. Suddenly Fallourn's rider moved, a smudge of pinking becoming visible. Arthur was looking at Merlin's tower and he must be able to make out Merlin looking back. After _it _Arthur had always seemed to look at Merlin out of the corners of his eyes for flickers of moments, so the suddenness with which he looked up at Merlin and the length of his look made Merlin wonder again what had happened.

The knock on Merlin's door a few minutes later came as no surprise.

"Come in," Merlin said from where he stood by his table, keeping it between him and the entrance.

With a clumsy clattering the bolt opened and Arthur strode in. Merlin didn't pay much attention to Arthur's appearance, familiarity made that unnecessary, but two points were sharp and clear to him; Arthur's face and Arthur's sword.

"What for the love of Camelot was that?" Arthur said, stopping at the other end of the table without bothering to shut the door. Merlin reminded himself that he was pretending to have forgiven Arthur, pretending to be okay with him.

If he was okay with Arthur, how would he react?

"What for the love of Camelot was what?" He responded, keeping his voice light, keeping the tension of his chest quiet.

"The druid meeting…" Arthur gestured wordlessly at the door, which didn't make a lot of sense as it was in the opposite direction of where he had entered the courtyard, "a complete…"

Arthur stopped and closed his eyes, sucking in a breath and obviously trying to calm himself. Shifting his feet Merlin flicked his eyes between Arthur and the door and back.

"The druids wouldn't talk to me because of something you didn't say," Arthur finally said in a semblance of calm.

"What didn't I say?" Merlin asked, touching his hands to the wood of his table.

"I don't know, you tell me!" Arthur said, gesturing at Merlin.

For all of his broad gesticulations Arthur hadn't once reached for his sword. Merlin didn't honestly expect him to but it was like where trust had once been suspicion was now his second nature.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific," Merlin said, sounding irritated because it was the easiest reaction.

Arthur sighed, his anger suddenly deflating. His shoulders slumped.

"Have you been hiding things from me again?" He asked like he thought he knew the answer.

Merlin bristled and resisted the urge to retreat to the wall behind him.

"Just because I haven't told you something doesn't mean I am trying to hide it. I honestly don't know what you are talking about, Arthur!"

"I was at the druid meeting and they said they wouldn't talk to me because of something only you could tell me. They wouldn't explain it to me themselves but apparently it had something to do with…destiny, Albion and me being the Once and Future King, or something else similarly insignificant," Arthur bit out.

Merlin blinked. He didn't know what he had been expecting but it hadn't been that.

"What do you mean?" He asked, wondering what that had to do with the druids talking to Arthur.

"I don't know what I mean," Arthur said. "Only that nobody will explain anything to me but insist I know what they are talking about."

"I…well, I don't know why they wouldn't tell you themselves," Merlin said warily. "But Albion is kind of an idea, all of the kingdoms united under one banner and all."

Arthur sniffed, obviously having his own political opinions as to why that idea was sniff-worthy.

"And the other things are combined. The 'One and Future King' thing is your destiny, at least according to the druids."

"Destiny," Arthur sniffed again, but instead of political huffiness his expression now contained real disdain, disdain to the point of disgust. "Kilgarrah mentioned destiny. I didn't like the sound of it."

Merlin wondered what Kilgarrah had said to Arthur about destiny.

"Well, it's a myth, or a legend. You were prophesized quite a while ago…along with me."

"You?" Arthur said, frowning.

He didn't say 'You?' in a questioning tone, he said it more like he'd heard of the idea before and was in the middle of remembering when and where.

"Yes," Merlin sighed bitterly, "it's why the druids called me Emrys. That is supposedly who I am. It was Emrys destiny to return magic to Camelot and the Once and Future King's destiny to rule Camelot when it happened and then do the uniting all of the Kingdoms under one banner thing."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Arthur asked, "I need to know these things…for Camelot!"

"Well I'm sorry but you've never been the most receptive about magic and prophecies and destinies are entirely magical things."

"I've been getting a lot better," Arthur said angrily.

Merlin didn't deign to answer.

"Come on Merlin, I admitted I was wrong, I said I was sorry. Magic is legal in Camelot; I'm trying to negotiate with the druids, _what more do you want of me_?"

"I don't know!" Merlin snapped.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Arthur demanded, moving to step around the table.

Merlin stepped away from Arthur's approach and they both froze.

"I do not know," Merlin said very softly, staring at where Arthur had paused.

He felt like everybody in the world was staring at him even though it was just Arthur and himself in the room. The air was hot and sticky despite the breeze whistling in through the open window. He couldn't believe Arthur had the nerve to demand anything of him after all that had happened.

Arthur was breathing shallowly, looking at Merlin with something painful in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Merlin; you've got to believe that. _I'm sorry_. I was an idiot and I betrayed you and I'm sorry…but I can't take it back. I would if I could but I can't. All we can do is move on."

"There is no we. Not anymore," Merlin said, stepping back towards the wall, skin shivering over his bones.

"Would you please listen?" Arthur spoke so quietly Merlin paused. "I don't expect things to go back the way they were…I don't _want_ them to go back to the way they were. I was wrong, I did things I shouldn't have and I didn't stop things I should've stopped. But I can't change the past; all I can do is change how I will act in the future. I'm not trying to forget what happened, I'm not trying to belittle what I did to you, because that would be…terrible…but I am trying to move on. Please Merlin, don't stay stuck there, in the past…that place would be a terrible place to live and you've got something better."

Merlin was shuddering now, pressed against the stone without remembering crossing the room. It wasn't even the scar on his neck that haunted him, though indeed he would never be rid of it. It was that horrible lurching feeling in his soul he had felt the moment he had realised Arthur had betrayed him.

Only it wasn't a lurch any more, it wasn't just missing a step downstairs. It was with him all the time, this abyss and this darkness.

This was him now.

This was all he was.

This shattered fragment of grief, stuck in the past, taunted by the knowledge that he had once been so much more.

Arthur was saying all of these words, all of these apologies, he was saying everything that should've made this right…but he was using that mouth that had lied before, looking at Merlin with that face that had deceived him.

And Merlin was going mad, he really was. Because he could validate everything if he just looked into Arthur's mind, like how he had spoken to Mordred in his mind only quieter, harmlessly. Arthur would let him if he explained. Arthur would sit down and say 'What do I do?' because he _meant everything he had said_.

But Merlin couldn't do that. His magic was too powerful, he might hurt Arthur. There was no precedent to look to, no guarantee he wasn't dangerous even at his most gentle. And in the end even if there was Merlin couldn't trust himself with Arthur.

Not when he was so unstable, not with everything in his head.

Not when his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Merlin looked down.

One hand was pressed back against the stone but he realized the other was in front of him as though warding off some great evil. It was trembling, no match for any evil.

He knew he should be able to forgive Arthur…but he was irreparably broken.

Broken and alone and scared in the knowledge that he didn't know how to stop being this way.

"Merlin," Arthur said softly from across the room.

His voice was the saddest thing Merlin had ever heard.

"You want what's best for Camelot?"

The sound of Merlin's voice was so unlike itself it was like a third person in the room.

"You want to show the druids you are the Once and Future King? Come with me."

And he walked past the room, feeling electric, feeling cold, feeling nothing as he passed within a meter of Arthur on his way to the door.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur felt a sort of soul deep horror as he and Merlin entered the forest once more. Since they had left the room Merlin had uttered barely a word and Arthur felt sick with the fear that he might have caused some sort of irreparable psychological damage to Merlin in those few moments.

What had possessed him? Why had he spoken so forcefully, so insistently? Had pushing Merlin to forgive him finally pushed him over the edge?

Arthur had waved away the knights who had tried to ask them where they were going and with a single shake of his head stopped Gwen from interfering. He hoped she had gone and told someone, anyone! Anyone who might make this okay.

Not that they would be of much help now that Merlin and he were disappearing into the forest. Arthur had initially wondered if they were visiting the druids but as far as he could tell the camp was in the other direction. The trees they were walking through didn't look dark and foreboding, the opposite in fact. The forest was open and the tree trunks were a healthy rich brown, the canopy all green shoots and yellow light.

When Arthur felt a slight tingling on his arms and chest like he was facing the sun he assumed it was just because he had been thinking about magic as they walked. But as they continued it grew stronger and stronger to the point where Arthur knew it was no figment of his imagination. The warmth somehow intensified without getting any hotter. Magic flickered everywhere, as prevalent as sparkling dust motes, and plants looked strange in the corners of his eyes. Arthur thought that should've been afraid but somehow he wasn't.

Finally they stepped into a clearing.

It was very different to the clearing Kilgarrah had occupied and the one the druids had improvised. Both of those had been coldly lit and earthy.

In front of Arthur the grass grew thick and green and the trees opened up to a sky so blue it made Arthur want to squint. And whilst there was a stone impaled by a sword in the middle of the clearing the beauty of the magic and nature was so much that it took Arthur a moment to look away from the forest and focus on the sword.

By the time he did this Merlin was standing by it. In this forest of magic he looked unbelievably real.

"Excalibur," Merlin said and Arthur knew it was the swords name.

"How did it get here?" Arthur said; he felt like a question Merlin would answer.

"Kilgarrah's flame forged it," Merlin raised a hand but didn't touch the sword, "I drove it through the stone. Only you can pull it free."

The stone was pale grey and knuckled over to one side, making Arthur realise the sword wasn't exactly vertical. Oddly, this made it seem almost natural.

The part of the sword that Arthur could see was beautiful. The blade was mostly hidden but the exposed metal was the deep silver of quality metal and clear of muck and rust. The cross guard and pommel were gold and square, reliable, and bore elegant inscriptions. Impossibly the grip was made of leather that was unchanged by animals or rot. The leather was a deep, dyed red; Pendragon red beside Pendragon gold. Without even touching it Arthur could see where his hands would settle on the grip. He could already feel the perfect balance of the blade.

He turned away.

"Why is it here?" He asked Merlin, who looked away from the sword.

"Excalibur is your destiny. It is the proof that you have chosen your destiny, you have chosen to become the One True King of Camelot, of Albion. It is a signal to anybody who cares for legends that the Golden Age has come."

Merlin was stepping away from the sword now with an expression that was blank in a hard sort of way.

Arthur looked at the sword. That sounded like an awful lot to rest on a single weapon, a single man. He wasn't sure how he felt about all that responsibility…the idea of people who didn't even know him wanting him to rule not just Camelot but all of the kingdoms.

How did they know he was the right person? They hadn't even met him! What if they had made a mistake? What if by 'Arthur' they really meant 'Uther,' but then look at how that had turned out?

Who could trust the judgement of these vague notions of people who had lived hundreds, possibly thousands of years ago?

They were like chess players, moving pieces that hadn't been invented on a board they didn't know. Blind chess players.

Arthur looked back to Merlin, who was looking at the sky with an expression that looked an awful lot like he was blinking back tears. Unable to stop himself Arthur glanced at Merlin's throat but it was still hidden by the neckerchief.

"What am I supposed to do?" Arthur asked apprehensively.

Merlin glanced at Arthur without lowering his head.

"Pull it free," he said.

Arthur looked back at Excalibur. He stepped closer.

Here was a symbol that he was this Once and Future King…a symbol that he was the rightful King of Camelot. The druids wouldn't turn him away again, wouldn't embarrass him again. This sword could make him his own man, make him something other than a son fixing his father's mistakes.

All he had to do was pull it out.

Arthur reached his right arm up and wrapped his fingers around the leather grip. The blade hummed like metal in high wind.

But…

(Look at it Arthur.)

It was a symbol and it was a sword.

What did that mean?

(Think)

Arthur looked down the length of his arm to the sword.

Did he want to be a King chosen by a sword?

Would that define him?

He glanced at the modest blade resting in its scabbard at his side. A King shouldn't rule by the sword but a King should be able to protect his people. That's what his current blade symbolized.

But Excalibur was something different, something new.

Something Arthur wasn't entirely sure he wanted.

Yes all of those ancient people had prophesized all of those glorious things, but they didn't know Arthur and he didn't know them.

He could still rule Camelot and welcome magic back to the land without a sword choosing him.

He could be wrong, if Arthur knew one thing it was that he could be wrong, but he didn't think that being a King defined by a sword was the sought of King he wanted to be.

"No," Arthur whispered.

And he let go.

**::Merlin::**

Arthur's face was set and he unwrapped his fingers, shifting his weight to step away from the sword in the stone simultaneously.

But as soon as Arthur let go of the sword Merlin felt magic sear inside him and as he opened his mouth and yelled "NO!" there was the deafening sound of a thunderclap.

The clearing exploded with gold and red magic, magic in Pendragon colours, and Arthur disappeared behind a wall of light.


	23. Chapter 23: I forgive you

**Good whichever-greeting-is-applicable-to-your-timezone everybody!**

**How are you going?**

**Breathing? Seeing? Got access to ?  
**

**Awesome.**

**I haven't posted in…wow, 18 days, sorry! I only just calculated that and that is atrocious, my humblest apologies. The reason for this delay is exams and my sister leaving home. Leaving home may not sound like a big deal, but she has also left the country for 6 months. She took leaving home to an entirely new level. Anyway, I had neither the energy not the mood to write, the consequence of which was no writing, unsurprisingly.**

**This chapter was going to be long, probably double the length of this upload, but if I waited until it was all done you guys wouldn't get anything for ages. Instead I decided to end this at a natural pause in the chapter and upload it now; you guys have been so great with reviewing and seem to enjoy this story, so I wanted to give you something. **

**Also, I made a tumblr account, , just in case anyone wants to drop in and say hello; I'm not quite sure what I'll do with it. I used to be on tumblr but then I got…hm, what is a delicate way of phrasing this…violently attacked by a horde of angry people. Yeah, that sounds about right. I had no interest in the ensuring debacle and left, but now I have made a return! (Despite the fact that I still don't know how to use the website.)**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Apologies again for delay/length, I'll resume work on the rest of the chapter…which is now the next chapter, I suppose.**

**Happy reading.**

* * *

**Chapter 23: "I forgive you."**

**::Arthur::**

Arthur's hand hurt.

It was above his head, which felt groggy and lopsided. The pain was sharp and clear, like all that remained of him was a hurting hand and a disembodied thought.

That didn't make much sense, but he couldn't find it within himself to care, not when the ground was tipping his boots up in such a slow, sickening fashion.

What had happened?

Arthur grabbed vaguely with his hand and felt cloth within his tender fist. He tried to hitch himself up onto his elbows without success and so settled for opening his eyes and trying to focus them.

He was leaning against a big, warm shape. Arthur felt the big, warm shape inhale, then it made a big, warm noise that Arthur could in no way understand. He blinked up at it, he was sure his eyes had been working a little a while ago before…whatever it was that had happened a little while ago.

The big, warm shape breathed again before Arthur felt something fizzing and cold touch what he now recognised as his forehead. The fizzing spread from that point and Arthur's ears popped. Cracking his jaw, Arthur became slowly aware of his body. He was lying on grass with his right shoulder half up against the big, warm thing and the big, warm thing was cradling his hand which had been wrapped in a length of cloth.

Arthur only then realized the big, warm thing was, in fact, Merlin.

"Merlin?" Arthur said, dazed and surprised.

Merlin was looking down at him with the concern Arthur remembered seeing in the past after he'd gotten himself knocked out by a magical beast or a bandit or an inconvenient bit of wood.

The concern that Arthur had vaporized when he'd aided in the attempted murder of Merlin.

"Arthur?" Merlin said softly.

And Arthur was still so confused, he couldn't remember what had happened and he couldn't remember where he was but he could remember Merlin being cut open and the feeling he'd had as Merlin had begun to die and the knowledge that it was all his _fault_…

And now Merlin was sitting here holding him and Arthur's hand was wrapped in his neckerchief meaning that it wasn't on Merlin's throat and Arthur could see the scar but Merlin was just looking at Arthur like all he was thinking about was the hope that Arthur wasn't in pain.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said.

He tried to reach for Merlin with his injured hand and the neckerchief brushed against Merlin's neck and the scar it was no longer hiding. It was a white line, a long white line cut forever into Arthur's world. Merlin reached up and pulled Arthur's hand back down, but he did so with such gentleness that Arthur knew it wasn't to stop Arthur from touching his neck, it was merely to stop Arthur from moving his aching hand.

As the angle of their hands shifted Merlin's thumb pressed against Arthur's wrist and Arthur couldn't tell whose pulse was whose.

Because Merlin wasn't dying, the memories were just memories.

Whilst there was regret and broken things there was no blood and there was hate, not anymore. When Merlin spoke there was no pain and there was no anger, there was only this odd mixture of sadness and kindness that sounded a lot like wisdom.

"I know."

**::Merlin::**

It had taken less than a second for the clearing to go from just that, a clearing, to a furious storm of clashing magic. Merlin had only had a chance to yell "NO!" before he'd been knocked backwards by the blast of magic.

It hadn't hurt, the magic hadn't been vicious. It had just been this enormous, uncontainable surge of raw and complex energy. Merlin had felt himself tumbled backwards twice before his back had fetched up against the base of a tree. His head had snapped back into the wood hard but he'd been too busy covering his face with his hands to pay the pain much notice; all that he could see through his squinting eyelids was a golden magic, blindingly bright.

He couldn't move as the storm raged, the magic had him pinned, but all he could think of was Arthur.

Arthur in there…

…where Merlin couldn't reach him.

All Merlin felt was magic on his hands and sickness in his heart.

Because if something happened to Arthur…

Merlin had lost this fear somewhere along the road. He had forgotten somehow, for some reason, that Arthur was mortal, that, with the same ease that Merlin cast shielding magic, another might cast a curse.

He hadn't cared for a while there, for a short, dark while.

But then he'd returned to Camelot and seen all that Arthur had done. He'd seen all of the changes and heard all of Arthur's apologies.

Just as Arthur had said he'd been stuck in the past, unable to move forward, unable to move on. He'd _known _Arthur was sorry, he'd _known _Arthur had changed, but the knowledge had felt like lies.

Until now.

Arthur was somewhere within the torrent of magic and it was only now that Merlin couldn't save him that he realized what the world would be missing if Arthur died.

What he would be missing.

Yes Arthur had made a mistake, yes Arthur had betrayed him, yes Arthur had lined up with Merlin's enemies and used Merlin's faith and love against him.

But Arthur had said he was sorry.

Arthur had asked for forgiveness.

And he had _meant it. _

"ARTHUR!" Merlin yelled, pressed against the tree.

Even his great magic and destiny was no match for the powers at work here.

All Merlin could do was wait and pray and call Arthur's name and hope that somehow it would be enough.

He had saved lives with a single word before.

Now he used this one.

"ARTHUR!"

It was, after all, the most important word he knew.

**::Arthur::**

"What happened?"

Arthur was sitting up now, feet braced apart and elbows on his knees. Because his head was hanging down between his arms his voice was a bit muffled but Merlin was sitting close enough to hear him. Merlin's hand was warm, resting between Arthur's shoulder blades as whenever Arthur lost contact with him the dizziness and pain returned. Arthur didn't know why this happened, he only knew that after experiencing the dizziness and pain once he wasn't keen on repeating the experience.

Looking away from where the sword still stood, embedded in the rock, Merlin gazed down at Arthur. Arthur saw that Merlin's eyes were glowing quietly gold and for once it didn't make him look like something else.

"Magic," Merlin said, "powerful magic."

Arthur wasn't an idiot, he'd noticed the magic. But as he was still too confused to actually say anything snarky Arthur just repeated,

"What…happened?"

"Well, it was your destiny to pull out Excalibur. It had been prophesized, written in stone…"

Merlin paused. Arthur wasn't sure if Merlin had tried to say something funny. Even though it could've been the first attempt at proper humour in Arthur's presence in a long, long time, Arthur couldn't summon the energy to try and laugh at Merlin's joke. He wanted to, it was important, but even breathing was a laborious task.

"You didn't pull it out," Merlin continued. "You changed your destiny. It's…I've never heard of anybody doing that before. There are many people who fulfil their destinies, there are even those who deny them…but changing them is something different. That must have triggered all of the magic about your destiny to remake itself, which was what all of that magic was. It was change."

"Isn't changing destiny the same as denying it?" Arthur asked tiredly.

"I don't think so, no. You weren't rejecting your destiny, not really. I mean…you've become King of Camelot, which was prophesized. But you didn't take Excalibur, which was also prophesised. So you didn't really accept or reject your destiny, you changed it, and changing something takes a lot more power than destroying it."

Arthur went to nod and bumped his arm with his head, making him hiss.

"My hand…?"

He looked up and Merlin looked along Arthur's right arm to his bandaged hand.

"You changed destiny through that hand, it was the channel. You're not used to magic and even somebody experienced would probably have been affected by that sort of power… It…I mean, it should've killed you…but it couldn't, as it was magic about the fulfilling of your destiny, so instead it kind of…burnt your hand, in a way."

"Burnt?" Arthur blinked, moving his hand closer with the instinctive compulsion to assess an injury.

"In a way," Merlin repeated, stopping Arthur from unwrapping the neckerchief. "It wasn't the sort of magic that leaves a physical mark."

At those words Arthur looked at Merlin's scar again. Even as his eyes focused on the marked skin he could see Merlin watching him with golden eyes from in the corner of his vision. Merlin made no move to stop Arthur or hide his scar. Instead, after a moment, he continued talking.

"It's why you almost faint every time I take my hand off you. I've told you before that everybody has a little bit of magic, whether they want to or not. In changing the magic around you in such a significant way you used all of yours up, and then some. I'm replenishing it."

"Replenishing?" Arthur said softly, only now realizing there was a soft light around his injured hand that wasn't around his other one.

Merlin did not elaborate but Arthur realized that this must be why Merlin's eyes were glowing spellcasting-gold.

"I did magic?" Arthur said.

"Yep. You're first spell. Congratulations."

Arthur looked up, not thinking about the magic anymore.

"I said I was sorry," Arthur whispered, "and you said you knew."

Merlin glanced at Arthur and away again.

He swallowed and as his Adam's apple bobbed his scar changed shape.

"Yes," Merlin said, still looking away.

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes."

Arthur was speechless. He wanted Merlin to say something more because him admitting he knew Arthur was truly sorry was too good to be true.

"I'm…sorry," Arthur said after a moment, not knowing what else to fill the silence with.

Now Merlin glanced back around and, like before, replied with,

"I know."

And then he said the words Arthur had been waiting for, the words Arthur had been breaking his heart over, and Arthur didn't quite know what to do with himself now that he was actually, truly hearing them, for real.

It wasn't an illusion and it wasn't a lie.

Merlin was sitting here, holding him, alive and alive and living, saying,

"I forgive you."

Merlin was smiling the smallest of smiles and Arthur could see that he was crying, but it was okay because Arthur was crying too.

**::Merlin::**

Merlin ended up calling Kilgarrah because even though he was giving Arthur his magic Arthur still wouldn't be able to walk all of the way back to the castle.

When Kilgarrah landed he'd looked around the clearing. From his intense frown and then the way he looked at Excalibur Merlin could tell the dragon was sensing the different magic and identifying Excalibur as the eye of the change. However when the dragon turned to question Merlin and Arthur Merlin shook his head minutely. Noticing how Merlin was supporting Arthur, Kilgarrah kept his questions to himself for, perhaps, the first time in his life. Merlin didn't think it wouldn't be the last.

He could be a right pain the neck sometimes but Kilgarrah did have it in him for amazing humility. Instead of complaining that he was 'not a horse' Kilgarrah silently pressed himself to the ground so that it was easier for Arthur to clamber onto his neck. He probably would have looked ridiculous, a massive dragon scrunching himself into the ground, if the action hadn't been motivated out of such care and kindness.

As it was all Merlin could feel was gratitude as he climbed up behind Arthur and physically and magically held onto the dragon.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur had been poisoned, concussed and ensorcelled enough before to know that all of those three things could make one feel distant spectator of their body. He also knew how being so detached could make ones stomach swooping and vision swing, like how he imagined flying felt like.

Arthur wondered if anybody who had been poisoned, concussed or ensorcelled before had every actually flown whilst their body felt like it was flying, or if it was just him.

He figured that it was probably just him.

The wind was freezing but the view was awesome enough to render the temperature meaningless. They weren't extremely high but people had still been reduced to tiny ant-versions of themselves, cows and horses scuttling around them like beetles. Arthur could see squares of different coloured paddocks, making a mosaic of land; roads ran beneath them like the lines between slabs of stone.

Shivering Arthur looked up, towards the horizon. The sky above them was a deep, ocean blue, but over by the horizon it was almost white. Arthur wondered why that was. He wondered if they could find out, he, Kilgarrah and Merlin. Arthur wondered what adventures they would have if flew off to the horizon to see for themselves.

Merlin had reached around Arthur on either side to hold onto one of Kilgarrah's neck scales. The angle looked a little awkward and uncomfortable but Arthur knew Merlin wouldn't be thinking about that. He knew that Merlin would only care that it was secure.

They were in the middle of the sky and rushing at who knew what speed but Merlin was there and Arthur was forgiven and so he was unafraid.


	24. Chapter 24: Merlin & Arthur

The final chapter. The End.

It's over; I kind of can't believe it. 132 778 words later (excluding author's comments) and it's finished.

This chapter really gave me some trouble, it didn't want to come out of my head and maybe, a little bit, I didn't want to let it. I was going to write an epilogue but soon discovered it would be better without one so I didn't want to finish. But here we are, at the finish line.

I hope you like it. I really do hope you like the ending. I can honestly say I did my best, which is all I can offer. (Of course, doing my best involves the occasional spelling mistake, but you know what I mean…hopefully.)

This story…we've had some ups and downs, U.F.E and I. Had some disagreements about necessary content and pacing and such. But we got there. I'm feeling all nostalgic now.

It was good fun but I highly doubt I'll ever write a fanfic this long again. It's taken me over a year to write (I was writing it a bit before I started posting) and generally I disagree with spending a year to finish anything.

I hope you've had fun. I've really appreciated all the reviews and comments and critique, you guys kept me sane. So thanks, thanks a lot.

And now, without further ado,

The final chapter of Until Forever Ends.

* * *

**Chapter 24: Merlin & Arthur**

**::Merlin::**

As Kilgarrah came down over the castle, lowering himself slowly onto the wall with great pounds of his wings, Merlin could see a few people making for the base of the stairwell that led up to where they were. He was grateful because he was rapidly approaching exhaustion. His head was aching where it had hit the tree and his magic felt a bit strange because he'd given some of it to Arthur; being so close to him was making Merlin's magic strain with the effort it took not to reach out and take back the part of it that had been given away.

Kilgarrah settled himself onto the wall and Merlin was slightly relieved that Arthur seemed too tired to notice the slightly alarming crumbling noise coming from the stone beneath them.

"You may get down now, Merlin," Kilgarrah said after a moment in which neither Merlin or Arthur moved.

"Is it okay if I just…wait until there's someone here? Just to help get Arthur down?" Merlin asked extremely hesitantly.

"I'm fine," Arthur protested in a thin voice.

Kilgarrah made an 'hmmm' noise which Merlin interpreted to mean that the dragon wasn't okay with this idea but would tolerate it anyway. As Merlin was thanking Kilgarrah Gwen and Gwaine raced out of the stairwell onto the wall.

"Merlin?" Said Gwaine, looking up at him.

"Arthur?" Gwen sounded worried as she looked at Arthur.

"Gwen," Arthur said, attempting a reassuring smile that failed somewhat as his eyes crossed.

Kilgarrah sniffed loudly and shifted his weight irritably at not being addressed.

"Kilgarrah helped me bring Arthur back," Merlin said hurriedly as Arthur swayed with the dragon's movement.

"What's wrong with him?" Gwaine asked, looking at Arthur. The tone of his voice showed that despite the pretence he so determinedly constructed he did care about his King's health. At least little bit.

"Nothing, he's just a little tired. I need a hand getting him down," Merlin replied.

Without needing to be asked twice Gwaine and Gwen hurried forwards, positioning themselves next to Kilgarrah.

"Kilgarrah, could you…? Just one more time?" Merlin asked, putting his hand on the dragon's side imploringly.

Kilgarrah sighed but lay down. He draped his forefeet over the wall and curled his tail around, looking very much like he was readying for a nap and not bowing down for the convenience of those riding him. Merlin knew he'd done this as an attempt to preserve his dignity and pride.

"Come on Arthur," Merlin said as Arthur leant on him, steadying himself as he swung his left leg over the dragon's neck.

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur said, sounding as irritable as Kilgarrah, "I'm fine."

"I'm just trying to help," Merlin admonished.

He perhaps sounded a little more defensive then he intended as Arthur turned his head towards him.

"Sorry," he said.

"No, it's alright," Merlin said, "down you go."

It wasn't a far drop and Gwaine and Gwen were able to steady Arthur before he fell over when he landed. When they stepped away from Kilgarrah Merlin slid down after them.

"Thank you," Merlin said, looking up to where Kilgarrah was gazing over the citadel with his usual imperious expression, "thank you."

He waited a moment but Kilgarrah didn't answer. However just as he was about to turn away Kilgarrah rumbled,

"You are very welcome, Merlin Emrys."

Merlin smiled warmly at Kilgarrah and then turned to face his King.

"What happened?" Gwen immediately asked, staggering because of Arthur, who was repeatedly saying "I'm fine" as he hung off Gwen and Gwaine's shoulders. Gwaine rolled his eyes for Merlin. Something in Arthur's vacant staggering appeared to have reassured the knight because there was a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

"He changed his…there was a bit of a magical…let's get him to Gaius, I'll explain it when we're there," Merlin said. At Gwen's anxious, demanding expression he added, "I promise you he isn't hurt."

Arthur chose that moment to announce, "My hand hurts," and waved his bandaged hand around.

"You were just saying you were fine," Gwaine said, looking over at Arthur.

Merlin saw Gwaine recognize the cloth on Arthur's hand but Gwaine's eyes didn't snap to Merlin's scar. When he looked up he had understanding in his eyes. Merlin sensed that Gwaine had read Merlin's forgiveness in the neckerchief wrapped around Arthur's hand.

"He'll be fine," Merlin said, stepping around them to hold open the door, "Come on."

* * *

To say Gaius was surprised to see Merlin enter the physician's quarters leading Gwen, Gwaine and a semi-conscious Arthur would be an understatement. Merlin had checked with his magic to make sure Mordred wasn't there before he had entered. Whilst the boy wouldn't have been able to do anything to Arthur Merlin knew it would make Arthur uncomfortable to be so exposed around the druid boy. Merlin spared a moment to wonder where Mordred had gone, what sort of activity had Hunith devised for him that would show him how to be kind.

Gaius shuffled forward as Gwen and Gwaine guided Arthur to the patients' bed and though he didn't have to, though half of him still wanted to go somewhere quiet away from all of these people, Merlin came forwards as well. Arthur was still sickly and weak and as long as he needed Merlin's hand to keep himself steady Merlin would be there, hand outstretched.

The fact that Arthur hadn't seemed to care about showing his weakness to Merlin had made him reel a little. Arthur had been trusting him for a long while now and Merlin had, in his own strange and sometimes backwards way, been trusting him well before forgiving him. Maybe he had forgiven Arthur before today, because Merlin certainly knew that he hadn't gone from mistrust and anger and fear to absolute forgiveness just because Arthur had hurt his hand. That wasn't how forgiveness worked. That wasn't how forgiveness _should _work.

No, Arthur being hurt had merely been the catalyst for Merlin to realise that he accepted Arthur's apology and to admit it to Arthur and, with much more difficulty, to himself. The admission had come in the heat of the moment but the understanding had not. It was better that way; it was no whim nor a spur of the moment decision.

It was real and lasting.

But even though he'd forgiven Arthur Merlin couldn't just go back to the way it was. That didn't mean his acceptance of Arthur's apology was less then completely sincere, Merlin understood that Arthur wasn't the man who would lead him to his death anymore. The wounds had healed but the scars remained.

Merlin touched his free hand to his throat, holding his head bowed so his fringe shielded his eyes from his companions.

He couldn't just forget but he didn't have to be haunted. Just as the solution to Arthur's injured hand was not to amputate his arm the solution to Merlin's painful memories was not to forget them. It wasn't a question of _should_ he remember them but _how_ he should remember them.

Arthur was trying to explain what had happened but he wasn't making a lot of sense due to shock and confusion. The others were listening to him and trying to understand him. Merlin knew they didn't want to ask him, fearful that he would feel harassed. As soon as he realised what his friends were trying to do for him Merlin realized he was okay with speaking.

And, opening his mouth, he spoke.

**::Arthur::**

Arthur didn't know how long he had slept but when he woke he instinctively knew that it had been a long time. Opening his eyes he saw a foreign ceiling. Frowning, he realized he wasn't in his bed…he was in a cot. A big cot, admittedly, but it had wooden edges.

Shuffling his elbows onto the cot's edge Arthur levered himself up with much grumbling and moaning.

"Ow, what the…? What sort of…contraption…who…inflicted upon me against my-"

"Arthur!"

There was a thump. Arthur looked around and saw a book lying forgotten where it had fallen at Gwen's feet. She was leaning forwards, eyes on him, concern and relief warring for prominence on her face.

"Gwen! Why am I in…" Arthur looked around, "Gaius's room?"

"You got...magically drained or something…and you're hand…"

At the mention of his hand Arthur raised both, focusing on his right before he saw the bandage because of the stiffness he felt as he moved it.

"Ow, that's right, I remember," Arthur said thoughtfully, staring at his hand without seeing it as he recalled what had happened the day before, or a few days ago…or…

"How long was I out?" Arthur asked.

He pulled his eyes away from the clean white bandage to look at Gwen, who was still perched forwards on her chair.

"A while. You came back yesterday afternoon and slept all through the night and today's morning. It's just before noon now."

"Oh," Arthur said.

He reached up with his left hand and mussed his hair absently.

"Am I…alright?" He asked hesitantly, "I mean, I feel fine."

It was true, he did feel fine. His hand was a little sore but he'd had worse aches and pains from knights training. Gwen was one of the few people who he felt safe lowering his mask of imperviousness in front of. In fact, he probably trusted her with his health more then he trusted himself; Arthur was aware of a certain dare-devil aspect of his personality.

"Yes, you'll be fine," Gwen assured him, "Gaius just prescribed magic and bed rest."

Arthur raised a startled eyebrow and Gwen grinned at his surprise.

"Well…I'd prefer magic to this…" Arthur looked at what he had been resting in and, raising his other eyebrow, delicately said, "_bed_."

Hearing the insult in his politeness, Gwen laughed. Arthur looked at his bandaged hand as he remembered the clearing and the sword and _Merlin_.

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur asked and looked instinctively towards the door as though expecting Merlin to jump in, yelling 'boo.' (If Merlin had done that Arthur probably would've fallen out of his cot in shock, which would of course made him very angry.)

Gwen glanced impulsively at the door as well.

"Don't know. I think he left here around…midnight? Maybe?"

"Midnight?" Arthur rolled his eyes with mild exasperation, "why _midnight?_ I mean not at bedtime, or at breakfast, midnight. Nobody does anything at midnight. Apart from Merlin…who leaves rooms, apparently."

"Are you grumpy that he was crying over your death bed?" Gwen asked.

"I thought you said I was fine!" Arthur yelped.

"It's just a phrase."

"Sure it is," Arthur said in a jokingly sullen tone. After a moment he resumed his normal voice.

"But seriously," he said, "where is that sorcerer?"

"I said I don't know, but if you eat your late breakfast, or early lunch, whichever, then maybe you can go look for him," Gwen said.

"I want to go now," Arthur said, sounding slightly petulant.

"Go ahead, but Gaius was the one who wanted you to eat something when you woke up and if you meet him and _haven't _eaten anything you might need that death bed after all."

Realising the logic in this Arthur agreed to eat before finding Merlin.

* * *

When he'd finished eating Arthur left the physician's quarters, wishing the dreadfully uncomfortable cot good riddance. Gwen offered to help him look but Arthur declined; he was quite content wandering the castle on his own. A few servants gave Arthur curious looks they would've never dared give Uther and Arthur smiled at them, recognising a few who he had seen talking to Gwen and Merlin in the past.

He didn't check in Merlin's tower room immediately, feeling somehow that it would be too direct. He need not have worried though as Merlin wasn't there. This did narrow down Arthur's search as Merlin's usual places were his room, Gaius's room and Kilgarrah's wall.

Arthur unhurriedly made his way to the wall.

* * *

Arthur swung the tower door open and stepped into the sunlight. With some surprise he realised Kilgarrah wasn't there. The castle staff were taking full advantage of Kilgarrah's mysterious absence and were conducting some rather rushed looking repairs on the damaged stone wall.

For a moment Arthur couldn't see Merlin as his eyes were distracted by the scurrying workers, but then as his eyes adjusted to the busy scene he saw a patch of stillness. Merlin was standing with his right hand on the stone looking out across the courtyard half way between Arthur and the majority of the workers. He was wearing what looked like neater versions of his old servants clothes; Hunith's work, Arthur guessed. Merlin's neckerchief was prominent in its absence.

Meandering towards him feeling both happy and a bit nervous Arthur gave Merlin ample time to notice his approach. Merlin's head turned almost imperceptibly in Arthur's direction when he was a few meters away and Arthur knew he had been noticed.

"Hi," Arthur said softly and leaned on the wall beside Merlin.

"Hello," Merlin said back, "I see you're out and about."

"Yes," Arthur looked across the courtyard as well, watching the everyday life that all of their battles were for. "I'm all rested up, just as the physician ordered. I still feel a bit…"

"Strange?" Merlin offered just as Arthur concluded, "tingly."

"Tingly?" Merlin repeated immediately, eyebrows shooting up.

Arthur looked at Merlin's face. He had felt safe doing so from a few meters away but up close he still felt a little awkward. Merlin had forgiven him but Arthur still feared if he looked at Merlin directly Merlin might notice something in his eyes worth hating him for. It was the obvious amusement in Merlin's tone that had made him look around with a de ja vu like a weirdly happy ache in his chest.

"Strange, yes, let's go with strange."

"No, you said tingly," Merlin smiled.

Arthur had forgotten how _real_ Merlin was when he smiled. His black hair framed his pale face and happiness seemed to pour from his expression. Arthur smiled back.

"Yes well, cut me a break. I just recovered from a…a…whatever it was I was recovering from."

Merlin nodded; dropping the joke but Arthur he was shelving it away for future use.

The promise of Merlin mocking him in the future, a promise swelling with relief and hope and hard won triumph, made Arthur suddenly bold.

"Thanks for healing me and stuff," he said.

Merlin looked at him, mildly surprised by Arthur's suddenness.

"You're welcome; I don't mind healing you…and stuff."

Before he could stop himself Arthur had flicked his gaze from Merlin's eyes to the white scar on his throat. When he returned his gaze upwards he knew Merlin had seen him look. Merlin's expression was neutral but Arthur scrubbed a hand, his good hand, across his face and looked away.

He was used to these moods, sudden happiness followed by just as sudden a plunge, but just because he was used to them didn't mean he had to like them.

"Sorry," Arthur said gruffly, not sure if he meant for looking at the scar or helping give it to him.

"It's okay," Merlin said; voice quiet and sorry and sincere.

There was a pause. It wasn't awkward but it was heavy and cumbersome and Arthur didn't know how to weather it. He drew breath and started on a word but Merlin interrupted him.

"I forgave you Arthur, you don't have to keep saying sorry."

Arthur realised he had been apologising for more than a look; Merlin had known his own motivations before he had.

"How did you know I was going to say sorry?" Arthur tried to sound indignant.

Merlin gave Arthur a look that was half mocking and half understanding.

"You've changed Arthur, but not that much."

Arthur smiled again; Merlin's statement was actually literally false but Arthur knew Merlin meant it a different way. Arthur had changed a lot but there were some fundamental parts of him that had remained the same; his genuine wish to protect people, his desire to be loved, the compulsion to be, somehow, strong enough to hold all of Camelot on his shoulders or safe in his arms.

Merlin saw these parts of him, the parts of him that mattered.

What had happened, what he had done to Merlin, had not stripped Arthur of all that was good in him. Conversely, somehow _because_ of the good in him Arthur had realised what he had done, a realisation that had stricken from him the illusion that blind anger could be justified, the illusion that because somebody else was thinking and reasoning meant that he didn't have to, the illusion that somebody hurting him meant that it was impossible for Arthur to hurt them in return.

Arthur would always regret what had happened, would always feel a deep horror that shook his spirit because of the reality of what he had been capable of, but he was wise now. Whilst courage and love and forgiveness weren't the sort of lessons that should need teaching he wasn't going to waste the lesson now that he had finally learnt it.

Arthur came out of his musing when he realised he felt something familiar. It was the thudding on his eardrums and rattling of his teeth that heralded Kilgarrah's approach.

"Ah, that flaming dragon is finally coming back. Maybe he can explain himself," Merlin said in mock irritation.

Arthur pounced immediately.

"Flaming dragon?"

"Hey, you called the magic residue from a historical destiny-changing ever 'tingly,'" Merlin said, pointing a finger accusingly.

Arthur subsided with a good natured grumble.

**::Merlin::**

Much to Merlin's surprise and consternation Kilgarrah returned carrying the sword in the stone. As the dragon landed in the once again rapidly evacuated courtyard Arthur and Merlin shared a baffled look and made their way down.

"Kilgarrah," Merlin called as they entered the courtyard, "What…why…?"

Kilgarrah's smug expression served only to perplex Merlin further. Merlin looked at Arthur for help.

"Kilgarrah, I'll have you know that stone attacked me yesterday, why have you brought it into my castle?" Arthur asked, eyeing the rock warily.

"The sound of cracked stone carries throughout the mountains," Kilgarrah said, one massive paw still leaning on the stone. "The rewriting of destiny is felt in the magic of the world, as a stricken rock shakes the ground."

Arthur looked at Merlin; Merlin shrugged.

"I sensed it when you changed your destiny, the world heard you, stone rewrote itself. Come and see what would have been your sword, O Pendragon King."

Merlin followed Arthur as he approached. As they drew closer Kilgarrah launched into the air, buffeting them with wind, and swung around to land heavily on the castle wall. Merlin smiled when he heard a worker swear loudly.

"See what your magic has done," Kilgarrah ordered.

The sword was the same; gleaming and stuck solid in the stone. However beneath the sword, carved into the side of the stone, was a clumsily but clearly written word.

TEMPTATION.

"Your choice does not just affect your rule, Pendragon King, but the rule of all who will follow you," Kilgarrah proclaimed in a ringing voice; Merlin was certain all of Camelot must be able to hear him. "Excalibur shall remain; Temptation of a proven rule, of proving one is the chosen one. The rightness of a ruler shall not be governed by whether or not they can pull the sword free but if they can resist doing so."

* * *

Arthur had Temptation moved into the throne room. He wasn't sure if he would find somewhere better for it later but as it was it seemed fitting. Whenever Arthur, or any future King or Queen for that matter, sat in the throne of Camelot they would be reminded of the temptation of power and the power of temptation. He then asked Lancelot, whom Merlin had been joking with as the sword was moved, to form a committee or a group to record 'what had happened.' When Lancelot asked him what he meant Arthur simply said, 'Everything,' and Lancelot knew what he meant.

There wasn't a name for Merlin keeping his secret, betraying his secret and Arthur betraying him in turn. It seemed impossible to summarise the flight of Merlin and the death of Uther and the rise of Arthur in a few mere words without unforgivably simplifying them.

But there would be; there would be a name one day. One day they would find the words that didn't feel too small, or maybe then the memories wouldn't feel so large. Merlin knew that as time progressed he would heal, he would gain perspective. He had forgiven Arthur but he still hurt, the scar tissue was still new, unfamiliar and scary in its permanency.

There would be days where both he and Arthur hurt and they both raged and maybe Merlin would unfairly accuse Arthur of old injustices and Arthur would respond in kind.

But the scars would fade and the pain would as too and Merlin knew there would be days where they would all forget to remember what had happened. Even better, there would be days when they would all look back to the painful times and the memories wouldn't be so frightening because they would know that, in the end, they had all survived.

They had all survived and, through surviving, had become better people.

Through surviving, they could live.

**::Merlin & Arthur::**

With Arthur as the King and Merlin as the Court Sorcerer of Camelot in a world that was often hard and unfathomable both of them would always remember that out of all of the confusion and loss they had suffered at each other's hands it was only really forgiveness that mattered. Whatever came would be met with love and courage and the united strength of Merlin and Arthur, of King and Sorcerer.

Of them, together.

Nothing and no one but themselves could rob them of each other and neither Arthur nor Merlin were going to let their friendship go again. To that they were both holding on as tight as they could with both hands. Merlin and Arthur had surmounted the insurmountable together and the future did not frighten them.

The future would come bringing with it new dawns with new horizons and new nights with new stars and when it came Merlin and Arthur would rise, together, with open eyes and beating hearts to meet it.

::THE END::


End file.
